Poorly Written
by SneezySoul
Summary: Ever since Emily went to Germany for schooling, Jackson's mother has been causing him more trouble than he'd like to admit. Now, though, he finds the woman going to vacation in Germany without him, leaving him dealing with one E. Aster Bunnymund.
1. Chapter 1

**Title is that bc im too lazy to think one up**

* * *

"My son doesn't do _anything_ around the house." Jess says into the phone, sighing long and loud enough for anyone within the house to hear, even through the sound-proofed walls. She's sitting reclined up on a leather recliner, cup of cold coffee sitting beside the chair on a green-colored end table, forgotten. She turns her head to the side and tosses the brightly colored wrapper of the snack she had just eaten to the floor, uncaring. "He doesn't listen when I ask him to do chores, his room is a mess and - _ugh_ \- don't even let me talk about what he does all day."

Jackson rolls his eyes. It's the same talk she gives out when a new acquaintance asks of her children. Jess - Jackson's mother - had three children, Nathaniel, Jackson, and Emily. Emily had been sent off to a private school in Germany, while Nathaniel was just gone; He had run off as soon as he turned of age, and never called, or wrote letters. Heck, Nathaniel could be dead for all Jackson knew, which was a disheartening thought in and of itself. His mother loved his siblings, and so did he.

He wasn't angry at his siblings, really, it was just so hard knowing that Emily got to go to all these concerts, and buy all these expensive things, and Nathaniel's pictures were practically shoved in Jackson's face, while Jackson wasn't even allowed a new pair of shoes, and his pictures usually shoved at the bottom of an old, dusty box in the forgotten rental storage Jess had left in Chicago when the family of three had moved to Burgess two years ago.

He wasn't angry; he couldn't be, with how much he loved his family. He was just...a bit disappointed in how things were, that was all.

Going to pick up the wrapper Jess had thrown a moment before; he reaches over to pet their lazy cat, Moxy. She was just hitting ten years old, the granny time to cats, and if the box full of cat toys didn't show it, her large belly would tell anyone she was well loved, and spoiled for it.

Moxy lifts her head up and winks at him a few times, purring softly at the teenager. Jackson knew he was one of her favorite humans, and even though cats couldn't speak, he practically knew what Moxy would say if she could. It'd probably be somewhere along the lines of 'I love you child here's a dead mouse to prove it' or 'why is the female so noisy'. The thoughts make him giggle inwardly, as he gives the cat a lopsided smile, before standing back up to toss the litter where it belonged; in Jess' boots.

Yes, it was childish, and yes technically he's only spurring on his mother's distaste of him, but she shouldn't have given him a 'weapon' in the first place. Also her boots had been riddled in mud as Jess had walked in last night. She walked all the way upstairs, tracking the slimy grossness everywhere. Jackson, of course, was the one who had to clean it up, sadly, because 'it was _your_ prescriptions _I_ had to pick up so you have to clean it' seemed to be a valid-ish argument, right?

 _Whatever_. Even if Jess didn't argue he would still be forced to clean it up.

The mere thought of picking up after his own mother a few years ago used to make his blood boil and he'd resorted to screaming bloody murder into a stuffed animal, or running circles around the house just to get the steam off enough to focus on his given chore, instead of remaining angry. If his mother even _thought_ he was angry she'd only give him more things to do, and as every school-monger knows, chores really take up a lot of free time from homework and studying and slacking off and... _yeah_.

That was a few years ago, though. Now he just figured everyone's parents put them down like that. That was probably why Nathaniel left, and Emily begged to go to Germany. Parents must degrade their children so their kids might find out how rough life is or something dumb like that, right? Jackson nods at the trash can, pretending the little plastic bin had read his thoughts and agreed with him. He didn't have friends, so he just had to make do with his thoughts and his cat.

"Jackson isn't the best person to leave with your son. You could always try Nicholas. He is _such_ a nice child, _always_ working, and he even knows how to cook!" the woman on the phone laughs, while Jackson makes his way to his fat-and-happy cat, picking her up under the armpits like one would pick up a child.

He turns to Jess, holding his cat like how one would hold a baby while rocking them to sleep. Moxy didn't mind at all, and she even enjoyed being carried around like that all the time. Jackson wonders if it's because Moxy just likes looking at the ceiling or something.

"I'm going to my room." he tells the woman, but remains where he is.

"Hm, what was that?" Jess ignores him for a moment, scratching at her neck, listening to whoever she was talking to. "Oh, no. No he's right here, but I don't think he'd want to talk to you. He's _really_ grumpy when it comes to people."

"Mom." Jackson frowns at being ignored, but remains where he is. He looks down to his fluffy friend in his arms, and they both share a look with one another.

"Oh is that so? Well, I don't think so. Jackson hates art. I don't even think gardening is something he'd get off the couch to do."

The teenager hugs Moxy a little closer, and narrows his eyes at the bottom of the recliner, sending a hateful look down to the floor. Jess, unknowing or just uncaring of him sits up straight and laughs.

"Of course! Maybe you can knock some sense into him." Jess giggles. "I'm leaving in a few days to join Emily at the Dia Tsu concert, and I don't have the money to bring Jackson also, so if would be nice!"

"Wait - wait, what?" Jackson accidentally lets his grip loosen, and Moxy jumps up so she was hugging his shoulder instead of being dropped to the floor. Jess' eyes are now on him, as she hums into the phone. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jess waves her hand up and down in a dismissal, like she was only swatting at a fly. "Are you sure? I mean he could use the Guest bedroom, but I'm not too sure how Jackson would take this."

Liar. She knew exactly how he'd take this.

He hadn't seen his sister - his beautiful baby sister - in a good year and a half, nor has he ever talked to her on the phone and he didn't own a good enough computer for skype or any chats. Jess knew he missed his sister, and Jackson knew that Jess had plenty of money from when her brother had died and she sold off his stuff.

Biting his lip, he tries to suck in the frustrated tears. Maybe with Jess gone he'd have himself a vacation, too. Even if it were at home, and he would be alone with his furry friend. Cats were enough company, right? Cats didn't lie about you and they didn't give you any trouble besides a full litter box and an empty water bowl mostly.

But then again Moxy could never replace his sister. And as he thought of that his heart feels like someone just grabbed onto it and _twisted._

"Alright, then. I'm leaving Friday, but you can always send him this way on Thursday so I can give him a few pointers. How about I meet him at the Wendys downtown on Thursday for that?" Jess asks, twirling a strand of her hair on her index finger. "Jackson is _very_ difficult, you see. Bipolar or something. I just want him to be prepared."

Moxy yowls quietly at the teenager still holding her, expecting to be carried up into Jackson's room like always around this time. Jackson gives his friend a small frown, and goes to set her down onto the unused coffee table, whispering a 'just wait for me' to her in reassurance. He runs his fingers through the fur on her head to calm her down for a moment.

"Who's to be prepared? Who are you meeting?" Jackson asks, and Jess hurriedly says something into the phone before covering the ear piece of it, and giving him a glare.

" _Shut up_ , it's one of your business, _Teufel_." Jess hisses at him, before going beck to her previous conversation, face turning back into the brightful cheer it was a few minutes ago as she talked to her friend.

The teenager feels something coil in his stomach at that.

His mother thought he hadn't bothered to learn German. He didn't know a lot of German per say, but he did know what she called him when she was angry at him. Devil. _Teufel._ It hurt him to know his own mother called him such a thing, but what hurt the most was the thought of never seeing his sister, or having his sister influenced by his own mother to call him things as well. Would Emily _really_ shout and yell at him like that, too? He hopes not.

Being told it _wasn't_ his problem...it also hurt, too, because it _was_ his problem. Was she leaving him alone with a - with a _stranger_?! Was she out of her mind? Jackson didn't need a babysitter - he was _sixteen_ for heavens sake! All you really needed to do was show up to see if he were alive! He could take care of himself!

Or, well...he thinks he can take care of himself. He knows how to cook most things, and he also does some grocery shopping, so all he'd need is a twenty or two depending on how long Jess would be gone.

Though…he thinks she may be gone for a really, really long time, depending on how much money she had taken.

He's pulled from his thoughts quickly, as the sound of a phone slamming back on its receiver reaches his ears. Moxy, startled, jumps off the little table she was sat upon to storm her way upstairs with a distinguishable 'plomp, tomp, tomp'. Knowing that feline, she'd be waiting by the attic entrance for him; his room being the attic, of course.

Jackson blinks as the woman across from him sends him another look and huffs at him in disgust.

"I'm leaving Friday; someone will be here to watch you. _Don't_ shit this up or when I come back you won't see the light of day, you _hear_ me?" she nearly hisses out. Hissing. Never thought a human was actually capable of doing so while talking, and sounding murderous no less. Jackson wonders if he should use the 3D printer at his school to make her a badge or something for achieving that.

The woman stands to her full height, towering over Jackson, surprisingly enough. People would say she was a short woman if she were in public with her friends, but with Jackson she was tall. He doesn't remember how tall he was anymore, but he does know that woman in front of him could give his English teacher a run for his money if they ever met.

She then throws up her hands, causing Jackson to flinch at the movement. She groans out a long, frustrated groan, as if the whole ordeal were a frustrating marathon that she had to run, only to be blocked off from the finish line.

Jess stomps her ways upstairs, the noise ricocheting off the walls even if the house were sound-proofed.

The teenager doesn't know why he flinched - his mother hadn't hit him in a very long time - but considers it some kind of reflex. Moxy meows from upstairs, most likely calling for her favored human so he could open the door for her and carry her to bed or something. God he loved that cat.

He is just about to walk up the stairs when he looks at the state the recliner is in - crumbs all over the leather, while a pillow had been sat on, pushing down the inside of the chair. The cold coffee thankfully didn't spill at Jess' outraged movements, and for that Jackson could only sigh in relief. The woman had the recliner so far to the left it was rubbing against the end table the cup sat on, so it was a very close call.

Moxy is looking down at him from the top of the stair case, whiskers twitching in either impatience or worry, and Jackson could only give her a small smile of his. "Sorry, just a little longer, okay?" he whispers loud enough so only he and the feline could hear what was said. The cat's ears point his way, indicating he was heard.

He turns back around, and grabs a few tissues from the end table, trying to wipe up the crumbs quickly, as he had to get ready for work soon, and the messes weren't helping all that much.

The pillow is wedged down into the seat like the bottom brick of a courthouse. It takes both hands, and a lot of tugging and twisting just to pull out the fluffy pink ball-like thing from its leather cage. He doesn't even remember how it got here, since a lot of Jess' friends would only bring her to the movies or something, or buy her jewelry for her birthday. Perhaps it was something left behind by Emily. He should ask some day if they ever met up again.

Just as he is carrying the full napkin of crumbs to the trash, Moxy quickly trots behind him eagerly, looking for attention in the way of rubbing around the teen's legs and purring, nearly tripping him. Instead of chastising her or telling her to stop, though, he only laughs at her antics, tossing the napkin into the bin and scooping her up with a chuckle at how she looked at him, as if to say, 'human. Room. Now. I demand rest.'

"Okay, okay, I'm going now." he murmurs to his cat, hugging her as she clings to his shoulder. He goes to trudge back up the stairway. "You big fatty, one of these days you'll be too fat to carry. I'd have to buy a little wagon or something." he jokes.

Once he reaches the ladder to the attic, he pulls the string down on the 'door', pulling out the climbing device, and makes his way up, cat still firmly held in one arm as he expertly climbs the contraption, unafraid at how it wiggles on his way up. Climbing with one arm was probably one of his many, many weird traits, but he blames his cat, who both loves and hates to climb up the ladder. Today was probably one of those 'hate climbing' days for Moxy, so he didn't waste any time waiting for her to pull her own blubber up.

His room - or, well, the attic - is painted white, and there are dark blue sharpie markings of snowflakes he had made back when he had first moved into the 'room'. The room, despite being an attic was rather nice. It was quite larger than his mother's room, since it spanned nearly the whole width of the house without any walls separating any bit of it. There was an old desk someone had given to Jess sitting beside the wall, with an old computer from the early 2000's sitting there, monitor having a large crack in the screen from an accident with a book.

His bed, which was more like a couch that folded out sat near the window, the sun's last rays of light splaying invitingly to the mattress, as the sun set. He should be in bed right now, really, but his mother had made him take a job that required a late night at least once a week. The bed could wait for him.

There was also a dresser with a bookshelf packed full of books to the point where books were horizontal on top of other books, Like some kind of large book orgy Jackson really didn't want to know about. He loved books a lot, and never bothered to go through them to see if there were any he could give away, since he'd eventually reread them all again if he did so, like the last time he tried. The dresser, a brownish yellow, was empty save for a few outfits. He usually has to remind himself to sneak some of his paycheck from Jess' stash, but never got around to it. Maybe the woman will let him cash his own check when she leaves, so he could have something to buy groceries with. That'd be nice, for once. The woman always took about eighty percent of the money he makes, so it'd be really, really nice.

Moxy mews at him as he stands there, getting into the familiar feel of the room. There were some scratches along the wall by the bed, and some dents here and there from his old rage-sessions, but that was pretty much over. He was glad, too. That used to get him into so much trouble. He blames stupid teenager hormones and the fact he had no friends.

Setting the cat down, he goes to the dresser to pick out his outfit for tonight. He worked at a kind-of diner/bakery shop. It was well-known, yeah, but he still didn't know what it was exactly, since their over-caffeinated coffee wasn't the only thing on the menus. Sometimes they'd put things on the menu that would shout 'Cafe' or 'Bakery', and other days they'd put things down that were the opposite. Turkey, steaks, coffee, tea, ratatouille. They did the whole shebang, which made the place a bit of a hassle to work at, since there were a lot of people who would crowd in sometimes at lunch hour; thank God he worked the late shift tonight.

He only served out the drinks and stuff, waitering tables and cleaning the dishes. Little odd jobs here and there if the boss asks. It was the only job he could apply for that didn't require a lot of questions. The only thing they asked so far was if he were disabled in any way, and he was sure that he didn't have any disabilities as far as he knew. He hadn't been to the doctor in forever, so he'd know less than they knew by just looking at him.

He wasn't really sure if bipolar was a problem he had or not, so that couldn't exactly count. Sure, he had a prescription for it, but it was pretty much all a ruse by Jesse. She sometimes sold the pills. He didn't care all too much for them, since they weren't really something he felt he needed.

Bipolar? Him? Maybe. Maybe not. He's not one to judge such things, but he does know that Jesse had lied about him shouting at her one moment and smiling the next to the doctor. She also told him about how Jackson threatened to stab the cat. He'd never harm Moxy. Ever.

Jackson wasn't sure if his mother told one truth about him in her entire life.

"Awe no..." he mutters to himself, noting that he only had one shirt left, that being a light blue T-shirt with one of those bright pink breast cancer ribbons on the front. That was probably one of his most hated shirts, not because of the logo or the meaning, but more because it was meant for woman, not men. Also the colours were bright, and he wasn't too keen on the attention it'd give him.

Jess decided she didn't want it a few years ago and he guessed that she threw it in his laundry. He doesn't remember buying such a shirt, or such a shirt being handed down to him from anywhere, so it was kind of a mystery at this point.

He'd wear his other shirts, yeah...if they weren't in the clothes washer right now, being thrown about in soapy water. He sighs, pulling out the shirt and giving it a disappointed look, as he pulls out a pair of black skinny jeans as well. Hopefully the boss would make him wear that silly apron with the fat cat on it again. He'd rather wear that than such bright colours right now.

All well, at least it wasn't bright red or anything. He'd look like Santa's favored elf or something, what with his white hair. Just add a green hat and little pointed shoes, why don't you?

He'd say add a bell, but he wasn't too sure his boss would appreciate an elf running around. The boss had made it specifically clear that cats were more of the thing at work.

After tugging the cloth items on, he scratches Moxy behind the ear as he walks passed her, to grab his house keys that had lay on his desk, on top of some scattered doodles he had drawn on paper.

He stops just as he is in front of the 'door' to the attic, and turns around, throwing his arms out from his sides.

"I'll see you later, alright, kitty?" he chuckles as Moxy mews in response. "Don't kill Jess while I'm gone, okay? She's mean, but she means well." Pht. Yeah. She means well as in she wants everyone to kiss her ass.

He gives his friend a little wave and a smile, as he walks down the ladder. He looks to the climbing contraption, contemplating for a few moments, before nodding to himself, deciding to leave the ladder down in case Moxy needed to use the litter box. Not that Moxy would actually crap anywhere in his room, but he still would feel like it were his fault if he didn't give the cat a chance to use her kitty-toilet, even if Moxy hardly ever liked to climb down the ladder by herself.

The house is all silent save for the faint noises of Jess' bedroom television chattering away, cheesy over-used commercials shouting loudly enough to hear through the thick walls of the house. The living room didn't have a television, and Jackson never got to even breathe near Jess' bedroom, so he wasn't too familiar with a lot of things on the machine. The only television he even got to glance at was the one in his boss' home. Her nephews were out for a week once and she invited him over with a few co-workers to watch a few seasons of 'love split'.

His boss may be kind of demanding when it comes to cat-like attire and so on, but she was probably the nicest person he knew. He didn't even know her name. She had just said 'you're hired' as soon as he asked. He didn't blame her for that, though, the place didn't have a lot of employees and it was always crowded during lunch hour to the point where take-out bags would rapidly run out to the point where the boss had to send someone to the store to purchase a few boxes of them.

Now they had him to keep track of their supplies. And he was sure he did a pretty decent job so far, if by the weirdly proud looks he has received from his older co-workers were to say anything. Or maybe they just liked his hair and thought he was 'striking out'. Who knows. His co-workers were weird.

He walks across the living room to the front door, the ugly purple-ish welcome mat that meets his feet when he takes a step out onto the porch is old and ratty, and the words so faded that you couldn't even begin to see the 'welcome' that was once adorning the old thing. The porch is probably the most stable part of the house, since it was added later on when Jess finally got tired of hoping onto the old makeshift ramp they once had.

Or, well...more like she had forced Jackson into building the little porch, but she didn't tell her friends about it, and the neighbors weren't really around by the time he was building it, so...yeah. He didn't get any brownie points from anyone, just a half-assed nod from his mother and a demand to make dinner.

He locks the door behind him, and turns to slip on his old ratty sneakers. He couldn't bring them inside, so they were left out by the door behind a potted plant someone had given Emily a few years back.

Those sneakers have been with him for about three years now, and the soles were coming out, one of them had duct tape wrapped around the toe just to keep him from tripping himself should he run, the other one had some twine from a hay roll as the laces, because he didn't think his shoes were really worth a lot of attention to buy some new strings. They weren't the ideal thing to go to work in, but it was all he had to wear, and his boss told him 'no shoes, no shirt, no service'.

Did that even apply for employees? He wasn't too sure.

He waves at a few children who had stopped their play in the neighbor's yard to stare at him - he believes they were the Bennettes or something other. He doesn't mind the stares they send his way, because on closer inspection they're filled with awe and longing, as if they had just seen a deer in a meadow, or an animal at the zoo.

He finds that he likes the attention, plus sometimes they even break out of their stupor to shout some hellos and goodbyes. They all practically knew his schedule by now, and so every afternoon before he left he'd wave goodbye to them, and they'd watch him with shiny eyes and bright smiles.

Playing with the children in his neighborhood was probably a huge dream of his, and he does it every so often if Jess was home late or traveling somewhere. Jess always kept him inside until he had work, and then he usually had to come straight back home. It took him weeks just to persuade the woman to let him visit his boss, and a lot of those times when he'd come back from the visit he'd be given even more chores than before to complete.

Some chores she gave him didn't even need to be done. Sometimes she made messes just to give her useless son something to do. Jackson can only shrug at her when she does things like that. She's just really spoiled or something. He was used to her antics by now, even if some things she does still hurt.

Jackson is surprised, when instead of staring, shouting, or waving, a child - Jamie, from what he remembers - walks up to the little fence separating their yards. Jackson laughs quietly to himself, as the child only looks to him bashfully. The teenager decides to grace the child with his presence. If he was a little late his boss would understand. She herself was late most days because she had her nephews to care for.

The teenager whistles softly. "Wow, this fence is shorter than I remember. Though I don't think anyone would suspect someone to be hiding behind it." he rattles on humorously, putting his hands in his jean pockets, and swirling around on a heel. "No one would ever suspect a certain child to be hiding right there -"

"No! Only us shrubs!"

Jackson laughs, and then pulls his face into a serious-like expression, eyebrows pinched, lips straight. "That's great because I needed to find...a shrubbery!" he leans over the fence - the fence only reached up to his stomach, so it was fairly easy to look down.

Jamie looks up at him, shocked, but with a smile on his face, as Jackson pulls his hands out from his pockets.

The teenager sprinkles pocket-dust into the air over the child, forcing Jamie to laugh and roll away.

"Not the sleeping gas!" Jamie scream-laughs as he rolls.

"Yes the sleeping gas! How else can I catch the shrubbery?" Jackson laughs along with the child.

"Maybe you can come over and play Vikings with the shrubbery?" Jamie stands, smiling up at the teenager.

"Oh, I dunno, kiddo." Jackson sheepishly replies, running a hand through his hair. "Mom has me on a tight leash..."

"Then tell her you wanna play!" Sophie, Jamie's younger sibling hops over, shouting.

Jackson sighs inwardly. He missed playing with these guys. He pulls up a smile. "I'll ask her tomorrow, okay?"

Both Jamie and his sister whoop at the information, Sophie punching her hands through the air as if trying to hit the clouds up above.

Jamie then gives Jack a nod. "I miss you." he says quietly, throwing away the happy air for a moment, cutting through it like a knife through butter. "Why don't you ever come and play anymore? You used to all the time!"

"Play, play, play!" Sophie is standing next to the fence, raising her tiny hands upwards to the teen, making grabby motions. Jackson smiles at her, before taking her hands in his.

"Things happened." the teenager says. "I'm not sure what they were, but they happened, and something changed, you know?"

Jamie gives the albino a frown. "Like 'how our dad's no longer with our mom' kind of change?"

Jackson chuckles at that; the Bennettes had a divorce about a year ago. Jackson still remembers the shouting the two adults would take to the outside of their house. He wasn't sure why they always took it outside, but he figured it was in case someone threw a punch or something. Jamie's father looked to be the sort to hurt his own wife. Of course, it's not nice to judge by looks, but Jackson has seen the way the man would hold himself.

"No." the teenager answers, playfully swinging Sophie's arms left and right. "Kind of like 'mom is just a bit angry at me' change. I'm sure it'll blow over."

"But you said that _forever_ ago!" Jamie groans. "Is she _always_ angry with you?"

"Yeah -" Jackson lets go of Sophie's hands, to lift both his in the air, before Jamie could interrupt him. " - But I'm sure she has her reasons, right?"

"What good reason could she have to be angry at you?" Jamie frowns at that. "You're so _nice_."

"Yep!" Sophie giggles out, before being distracted by a stray grasshopper hopping up and away from her.

Jackson shrugs. "Dunno, kid, but if I ever find that out I'll let you know, alright?" he gives the child a wink. "I've gotta work, now, so I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Jamie nods up at the albino. "Okay! Tell boss I said hello!"

Boss. The kids both knew her as well since their mother brings them to the restaurant wannabe shop sometimes, but no one bothered to ask for the woman's name, instead picking up Jackson's 'nickname' for her. The teenager only chuckles, as he waves goodbye to Sophie, who's too distracted to notice his departure.

"Okay, bye!" Jackson smiles. "Tell miss Bennette I said hello!"

"We will!"

* * *

The walk to work was probably the most boring routine he'd ever had. It was pretty much the same very single day, with the same peoples who also walked, with the same litter here and there no one even bothered to kick around, with the same old gloomy, quiet feel to it. It was lonely, even with all the noise. The forests running alongside the road he walked along made it seem haunted, even, if not for the few cars passing him by.

The moon was just starting to show itself, peering down at the world. If Jackson weren't such a pansy when it came to fairy tales, he'd say the moon looked like a proud father, and that it showed in its glow. Thankfully it wasn't dark out just yet, and he was pretty close to the outskirts of the town, so he wouldn't need his flashlight until when his boss sent him home or something.

A few snowflakes from up above told Jackson that he'd have to start bringing in Emily's flowers off the front porch, and that he'd also have to be prepared to fix the water pipes soon should they break. Autumn and winter were his most favored seasons by far, but it also meant that he had to stock up on blankets and such. His mother always threw out extra blankets, as wasteful as that was, and Jackson only had a light sheet. He'd have to ask his boss to pay him in cash someday, just to buy the necessities.

Not that the cold bothered him much. He was sure he could roll around in the snow for hours and never feel a thing. He should get that checked one day, he inwardly notes, as he finally nears the familiar building that was the first one he'd always see - Corona's arts, an art shop mixed with a painting class. Jackson used to want to go there, but never found the time to ask if he could. He doesn't think he'd have been allowed anyway.

The lights across the town of Burgess always amazed him somewhat, though. People would leave their white Christmas lights out, and use those instead of porch lights, and some of the lights were swirled around signs and poles. It was beautiful, if a bit out of season. It reminded him of stars. Small, tiny stars that twirled around yards and curled around buildings without a single care over whether they were 'in-season' or not.

He exhales, and watches the plume of air float up and away from him in the cold, passing up a few more shops and rental buildings as he looked across the familiar, dazzling town.

Burgess was beautiful, in its own little warped and mixed up way.

It was nothing like living in California, or New York, or that one time in Washington where his little family of three had to sleep in an old broken-down apartment. Burgess was probably the most relaxed and peaceful town he had ever laid eyes on. The people who lived here were friendly, the prices weren't too outrageous, and if you happened to need help, here you could probably get it.

It was no heaven, of course, but if it were being rated, it'd be at the top ten, in Jackson's book.

He sees the little restaurant-coffee shop wanna-be thing up ahead, and hurries his walk to the glass door. He opens it slowly, allowing the little 'bell' above it to give out a little song in his entrance. His boss' nephews had made their own little automatic 'bell' system, which would sing a little different tune depending on the time of day the door is opened. He doesn't question the two children one bit when it comes to how they were so smart, because he's seen them both at work sometimes, and he was always amazed by them. He knew they'd grow up to do amazing things. - As soon as their Aunt takes the leashes off them, at least.

The restaurant wanna-be is not too small, and not too large. There were some customers sitting around by the window seats - mostly the late regulars - and his boss typing away on the cash register for someone's order. Over-all it was quiet and happy, as it usually was during this time.

He walks up to the counter, not minding the rude look the woman waiting for her meal gave him one bit.

He offers up a smile to his boss, as she is looking for the large bags for take-out. "Am I late?"

"Oh? - Oh, snowy!" Boss utters out, as if he had just spooked her. Knowing her she probably was spooked. She laughs a moment later at her shock. "I thought you weren't coming in today! - You were late, mister!"

The woman in waiting is then handed her bag of food, and she walks off with a slight huff. Some people don't like being 'cut off' in line. Oh well. She can just shove it up her nose for all Jackson cared.

Jackson scratches at his neck, chuckling. "Well I had to deal with two shrubs this afternoon..." he trails off, hoping that she'd take the little hint in the joke by the smile he gives her.

She does, because the next moment she's giggling. "How did that go for you?" she asks, humor laden in her voice.

"They miss me." he shrugs. "They decided to speak up today instead of shouting across yards."

"Well that's good!" the woman then pulls out a receipt, and gives the little paper a frown. At Jackson's confused look, she gives him a smile, her eyes crinkling in amusement, almost like her favorite animal, the cat. "That woman forgot her receipt." she answers, deciding to ball up the paper in a wad and toss it behind her. It was useless giving it back, since the woman was already driving out of the parking lot.

Jackson gives her a whoop when the wad manages to make it into the trash bin further behind the counter, and the boss laughs in glee. She holds out her fist, and Jackson bumps a fist against hers. He never used to do that, and he never used to know about the gesture, but ever since working here it's been such a good habit to find himself returning these fist-bumps. It was fun, and it gave him a nice warm and fuzzy feeling every time.

"Alright, here I am." he gestures to himself by spreading his arms to his sides. "What do you need me to do?"

"Actually..." the boss looks to the side a moment. "I...Uhm..." she then scratches a finger to her nose; a nervous gesture of hers he knew all too well. If she wasn't stress-eating through a few packages of doughnuts, her nose was being scratched to death, most likely. "W-well..."

"What is it, woman?" Jackson widens his eyes, putting up a fake frown. "Is it the press? Are you dying?" as the boss looks ready to whap him atop the head, he ducks, and with a faked panic in his voice shouts out; "Did little Timmy fall down the well?!"

A few regulars who were used to this display either snort at that or hide their smiles behind mugs of whatever-they-gots. Jackson was pretty sure that they all came here regularly for the entertainment. His boss should make a sit-com or something entitled 'that-one-restaurant-with-the-tacky-logo'. He should tell her that some day. Maybe he'd get to be a co-star.

The boss laughs along with him when he breaks out of his fake-panic.

"No! I was wondering if you wanted to stay for another movie night?" she tilts her head, giving him a slight look. He wasn't too keen with a lot of people, so a lot of expressions he never quite got the hang of, but he was sure that one ran along 'parental'. Or maybe 'I love you but I'm not going to tell you'. He doesn't think his boss would love him that way though. That was weird.

"It's Friday, you know? We close at around eight, which is in like two hours..."

Jackson gives her another one of his shrugs, followed along by a toothy smile. "Sure. I really liked watching movies with you."

"Oh, that's the thing -" she offers up a sheepish look. "My nephews are going to join us. I know you're not too great with people, but they're nice children, I swear!"

Jackson chuckles. "I'm not bad with little kids, I'm bad with the bigger kids." he looks at the large wall clock near the doorway to his boss' living room, trying his best to see the time. "You know, the ones who have to pay taxes and eat their veggies?"

The woman behind the counter giggles. "Everyone needs to eat their veggies, Snow."

Jackson - snow, being his nickname since the first time he had met his boss his shoulders were completely covered in the little white flecks - gives her a dejected look. "B-but they're gross! And - and mostly green! Like boogers! Who wants to eat things like boogers?"

"You do realize that about eighty percent of children and babies eat their own snot, right?"

"That's what they want you to think." Jackson says, holding up a finger like a teacher lecturing a student. "They're really wiping it all over your belongings while you're not looking."

"And you should know?"

Jackson laughs at the response.

* * *

 ** _If you don't wish to review, just send me an O if you liked, and an X if you didn't._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Merry xmas you dorks ;p**

 **hope this isn't too horrible hehe**

* * *

Washing the dishes went pretty fast if you ignored the disgusting remnants of food touching your fingers or the smells of it. Also having a song of sorts could help, but Jess obviously disapproved of his music. Kind of how most of his CDs had vanished, really.

It was Monday and he should probably be heading to school if it weren't for the fact his mother had called it off for the week. Any normal teenager like him would be so, so very happy for the week off, but for Jackson it was more or less a week of disappointments and work.

Jess had been running him ragged doing one chore after another. He barely had fifteen minutes of a break to feed his cat and stuff some crackers in his mouth before she send him off to do something else.

First it was washing her car, then it was loading the few boxes she was taking with her into said car, then it was taking care of the yard, and then he had to vacuum around.

Now it was dishes.

Jess sits at the kitchen table, plate of ignored eggs and sausages to her left , phone being held to her ear by a shoulder while she cleaned her nails. She's been home all day gossiping her heart out and eating. He wonders when her metabolism will wear out, because seeing her eat so much was like watching a pig at a burger eating contest. Sloppy. He swears he's cleaned that table up five times today in-between chores.

He frowns when some water splashes up from a spoon and sends some drops to his face. He hated doing dishes as much as scrubbing the floors. Heck, when she leaves, he may as well buy himself a dishwasher. Yeah. One of those newer ones that were really, really silent and stuff. That'd be great.

Awe, who was he kidding, he could barely afford lunch at this rate.

"Hey."

He snaps out of his dish cleaning daze to glance behind him. There, sat across the table form Jess was one of her friends, Damien. The man was probably in his thirties, with a head of hair that would make a mop envious, with how dirty it looked. Dirty blonde was a perfect name for such hair.

He was nice to Jackson, though, and seemed to be a huge crybaby. It was far more easier to look at him than at Jess so far, since Jackson himself knew that Damien was a soft-hearted person. Damien, despite being a bachelor had managed to adopt a son, whose name Jackson didn't really bother to know all too much.

The man was currently having lunch with them - er, Jess - as he had heard through the grapevine of Jess' departure soon, and wanted to hang out with them for a little bit. He'd only come about an hour ago, right as Jackson was busy vacuuming, but the man would most likely be able to get the teenager a break, if Jackson played his cards right. He was always told he had to best 'kicked puppy' look this side of Burgess.

"Yeah?" he quietly asks the man. The man loved quiet people, if from how the man relaxed after that was any testament. Jackson couldn't blame the man for being stiff and tense; Jess was a huge loudmouth, when she talked about other people. Which was sadly most of the time.

"Do you want to go to my house while your mom is gone?" Damien smiles a soft smile at him. "It would be pretty lonely here, and pretty hectic with a roommate, trust me." he gives a knowing look. Jackson knew the man had been in a dorm when he went to college, as he had told Jackson all about the various roommates he had along with him. The stories were weird; one man thought he was a leprechaun, and began to throw wine bottles at people from the window. Another roommate had decided jumping on the bed was too mainstream and instead jumped down the stairway leading to the first floor. He practically had all these stories memorized by how much he heard them.

Thinking about it, though, he doesn't think he'd like to go to Damien's house. First, he didn't know the man all that well, and second what about Moxy? What about his computer, and his CDs full of music he rarely listens to? - The familiarity of a home was a wonderful, wonderful thing, and he doesn't think he could easily leave that.

Besides, he's been alone for most of his life by now. Sure, he had his family, but that's nothing compared to friends. Not even Moxy could keep lonely away, and she was always with him, and always somewhere around the corner. His constant companion was currently underneath the table trying to beg for some table scraps at the moment, though.

But no, he doesn't think being lonely would hurt him one bit. He has work, he has Jamie, Sophie, and some of the teachers at school. He had people. He was alright.

"No thanks." he smiles, ignoring the look of disdain Jess sends his way. "Home is home, and I just love this old, creaky death-pit of a house."

Throughout those three words, Damien cringes a little, frowning to himself. "I understand, but you could always bring your stuff to my house. I have an unused guestroom I could set you up in, and I'm sure Aster could always help you out with any boxes." he turns to Jess, then. "How long are you going to be away?"

She nods to him slowly, as if she were mourning. Which was a complete hoax, if Jackson ever saw one. He keeps quiet for her, though, because he doesn't want another chore added ontop of the lists she had given him earlier. "A few months. Maybe a year. I had some things to do there, and I miss Emily oh so much." she sighs loudly, then. "I'd bring Jackson, but he's always had a huge fear of planes, and he and Emily never got along and -"

A dish cracks as he was scrubbing it, the noise echoing across the kitchen, eerie and haunting-like.

Jackson doesn't seem to register it, though, and instead slowly drops the dish back into the soapy waters in the sink. His heart throbs, but not in the usual 'oh so sad' way, no, his heart throbbed in anger. He closes his eyes for a split second, trying to reign in such rage to speak. He didn't care for chores at this rate, because this woman was a liar. A dumb, fat cow who was a filthy liar _liar li **a** r_ -

 _What._

 _Fucking._

 _Nerve._

He turns to Jess. "I love my sister very, _very_ much. If I could be with her now, I _would_ be." he says softly and slow, as if talking to a child. His sister was beautiful; mind, spirit, body, _everything_. She was his beautiful baby sister whome he had nearly raised himself, and who he would always, always care for. She was wonderful, caring, giving, understanding, and Jess could hit him with every weapon she could get a hold of, and beat him with words as much as she could, but his sister was his world, and like any rational human being he would love that world, even if it were millions of miles away.

"That's not what you told me -" she starts defensively, sending him a look which more or less said ' _stand down_ '.

He ignores her warning, instead putting on his own expression of defiance, and determination. "Have you ever asked? Watched us? Talked to us? No, you were too busy with your -" he pauses, thinking of another way of saying what was to be said. " _Bed mates_." There, perfect words.

Damien looks between the two of them throughout this, looking both lost and slightly willing to jump in if things took a turn for the worst.

Which he did as soon as Jess stood up and _punched her son to the floor_.

Jackson took worse from that woman before, but pain never becomes easy to deal with over time, no matter what video games and movies tell you.

He sits up, as Damien and Jess tussle back and forth, one cursing out loud at the other, and the other trying to calm said one down. Feeling the cheek that was punched, he knows that it would probably be a huge bruise if he didn't buy anything for it.

Thankfully she didn't knock any teeth out or broke his nose. Lord knows that the soft-hearted Damien would most likely have passed out at the sight of blood first sign of it.

"Who are _you_ to tell me how to raise my children?" Jess shouts, sending spittle in the direction of who she was so rageful against. "Your son was adopted! A _leftover_!"

Poor Damien, Jackson thinks to himself, watching the normally shy man sputter around for words at that. Damien's look was one of fear and anger, but Jackson couldn't really blame the man if he decided to run away right then and there. Jess was a woman of many things, but she was definitely not a woman of _mercy_.

But as the last thing that was shouted had sunk in, Damien has about him a look of rage. ' _God pity the fool who would enrage a quiet man_ ', is a very good quote to go back on right now.

"My son is _mine_! I don't care if he's someone else' son! I _raised_ him, and I _know_ him!" he shouts right back. "You hitting him is _abuse_! You don't do that to people! - That's not how you raise children." he adds a bit softer at the end. "That's how you raise _monsters_."

Jackson blinks a few times at them and their silent staring contest, before reaching up to brush his fingers through his hair, as the rage in the room was easy felt by all, and it was making him more nervous than vengeful right now.

He stops, then, feeling wetness on his fingers, and pulls his hand back to look. _Blood_. Did he hit the floor too hard? What happened on the way down?

As the shouting begins up again, Jackson roves his eyes across the floor, hoping for some answer. Moxy had ran off as soon as Jackson said his piece, so she was no longer underneath the table. He was expecting to find a cutting board somewhere, because, hey, their cutting boards were wooden and thick; easily enough to hit your head and spew some blood.

He goes to stand up, only for his foot to hit something. Moving it aside, he sees a fork.

 _God_. His stomach seems to drop. Did she just try to _stab_ him in the head with a fork because he simply _talked back_? - He used to always talk back all the time only a few years back, and she would only send more work his way, or ground him. What changed now? What the _heck_?

His stomach was twisting itself up in nervous knots, and wherever she had hit that fork seemed to come to life, throbbing and hurting. You know how they say the wounds hurt more when you expect them to? Pretty much the case in that.

Damien, at that very moment, happens to turn his head to the fallen teen, and gasps. "You're _bleeding_!" he accuses.

Jackson smirks, reaching up a hand to cover the wound. "Wow _really_? Haven't noticed." Thank the lord above that Damien hadn't been a sissy and feinted. Jackson wasn't too sure what to expect, really.

"Shut up!" Jess commands her son. She then turns to Damien, eyes pleading. "Please don't call the cops -"

"I have to!" he argues. "You _hurt_ him!"

Jess, taken aback, clears her throat. " _And I'll hurt you if you do_." she says quieter, venomously. She goes to pick up the weapon, before tossing it in the garbage can. Her first ever contribution to cleaning up. She then sends Damien, who has been standing there, watching her, a dark look. "Clean him up." she orders, before slinking out of the room, the argument falling dead at her leave.

The room falls silent for a few minutes, before Damien is instantly crouched by Jackson's side. "Oh my God - _Oh my_ \- Are you okay? Does it hurt? How many _fingers_ -"

"I'm okay." Jackson answers, chuckling, moving to push the hand away from his face. "Also, two."

Damien sighs in relief at the humor in the teenager's voice. He stands up, helping Jackson along the way, to set the boy on a chair, and rush to get some paper towels. "I'm so sorry for all this - " he says shakily. "- so, so terribly sorry. Oh m _y God_." he continues, barely a murmur now, as Jackson uses the paper towels on his head, dabbing around gently at the blood as the older man frets.

It's almost like watching those old horror shows, where one person accidentally hurt another or something. Oh whatever, his whole life should be a show. A really, really short show with a poorly written script and cheap actors. It'll be called something really dumb, too. Like 'winter sprinkles' or 'the sink is still full'.

Actually, that last one is a pretty good name so far, if it were a comedy.

"It doesn't hurt too much." he answers the unasked question, still dabbing away. He'd have to wash his hair out after the bleeding stops for a while, otherwise his hair would be all rusty pink. Or something. He honestly didn't know what white hair looked like with dried blood in it, okay? This was the first time it's happened, for him.

"She _hurt_ you - I dont - I _can_ t -"

"Hey."

"Call the police? - Oh my _God_ , your _cheek_ , did she hit that too? - has this gone on for _ever_? _God_ -"

" _Hey_!" Jackson shouts, snapping the man from his hysteria.

"Jack." the man nearly sobs, going to hug the teenager. Jackson sighs, allowing the man to do so, if only to calm the older down. "My God. She _hurt you_." the man says.

"Really?" Jackson smirks. "I thought it was the _cat_ who had the fork. Sneaky little thing -"

The man pulls back, both hand still on the teenager's shoulders. "This isn't a joke! She hurt you, Jackson! She hurt you! She stabbed you in the head!"

Jackson shrugs. "She was aiming for the cheek. She probably forgot she had a fork in her hand, I forget all the time."

Damien frowns. "That doesn't make it right." he says softly. "That doesnt - it's _not_ right, Jack."

"You know what also isn't right? _Being hungry_." Jackson replies. "How about you bring me out to get some ice cream, and we forget this? - Just give me an hour or two to wash my hair."

Damien releases his hold, standing up straighter. "I'll get you ice cream, but we're _not_ forgetting this. We're _never_ forgetting this, alright?" he says sternly. "We're going to talk about this, okay? - If not now, than soon."

Psh. Softie.

"Sure. Whatever you say."

* * *

He rolls his eyes for like the fifteenth time that day, debating with himself if it would be worth it to try to speak past the shouting of his friends, or to eat the ice cream in his bowl before it melted. He ponders over it for only a second, before picking up his spoon and digging into the wonderful treat, making little to no noise in doing so.

He was mute, so what was he supposed to say anyway? It's not like his friends know a lot of sign language, and even his charades was kind of worthless when his friends went on and on about stupid things. The last time he tried charades his friends thought h was telling them about how he served in the school's 'save the monkeys' program. He was not - never ever - going to dress up as a monkey to run around intersections to slip money off of drivers. Uh uh. No way, no how. Send the monkeys to do it.

His friends were hard to talk to.

He liked them, though. All his life he had lived in the quiet, but now he lived in the _noisy_ , and the _loud_. He wouldn't have it any other way, really, because silence was only good for short timespans, then you needed something to break that quiet.

He would have never survived if he had been deaf instead. He could never imagine going about his day without hearing the whistles of birds, the thrum of a motorcycle in the distance, or the leaves of a tree pushing one another aside as the wind shook them.

Yes, he knew of hearing aids, and the new surgeries for such things, and as much as he disliked the thought of not hearing anything, that wasn't his problem in this lifetime, and nor is it his problem in the next, if he had anything to say about it.

Being mute was hard, but he probably didn't know the benefits to being deaf, so who was he to judge such a thing? For all he knew, deaf people could have super vision, or the ability to run really, really fast.

All mute people are able to really do is listen to their friends bicker over which ice cream is better.

"I say carrot cake!"

"And I say chocolate mint!"

"Boys, _boys_..." a girl - Toothiana - said from the mute's right, raising her hands in a pacifying manner. "We all know by now that _strawberry_ is the best!"

The mute - Sanderson - nearly facepalms. Thank you, Toothiana, for your wonderful input. No, really, it was wonderful to know you _hated_ this argument as much as he, and it really helped to put your opinion in, too.

The little man huffs as this raises their voices up just a notch.

And then he looks to the right, to Toothiana's untouched bowl. A banana split, with strawberry icecream, littered with strawberries.

He makes a devious face, looking between the ranting figures, before reaching sneakily over, and pulling the bowl to himself. He takes his spoon out and starts to eat the delicious new food, looking between them all as he chewed in mild amusement.

Maybe he should eat everyone's ice cream. One, to put them in their place, two for ignoring him, and three to judge their favorites.

He doesn't waste one second of this wonderful idea, quickly scarfing down the split, and then taking the chocolate mint and the carrot cake flavored ice cream, replacing them with the empty bowls, to appear innocent to their peripheral vision.

Hm. His eggnog flavour was so, so much better. Especially with all the sprinkles and the chocolate chips he had piled into it. Compared to Aster's carrot cake, which looked like someone had just took a crap in a bowl and stuck it in the freezer overnight, his eggnog looked to have _way_ more character.

Tasting that crap-looking ice cream, though...it wasn't _too_ bad.

He shrugs, eating the ice cream as quickly as he could without earning himself a brain-freeze in the process, and then pushing the empty bowl to Toothiana's side of the table. He then takes the chocolate mint, and sniffs at the minty scent.

North had applied the Christmas tree shaped sprinkles, along with some chocolate whipped topping on the sides. It was a close second to the eggnog flavour, so far. Plus, it tasted like what one would expect; chocolate mint. A refreshing and tasty food to love.

Pushing the bowl to the side, he works over the flavours in his head, now bored and full of sugary ice cream. Eggnog was the best, by far. North's was a very close second, and Toothiana's ice cream kicked Aster's crap-looking treat to the curb, what with strawberry and banana.

 _He should write that down_.

He goes to shuffle through his book bag, taking out his notebook, and writing down the contestants, and the points they earned. Aster got a big fat zero, though, for being uncreative in his food. Seriously, if you're going to eat a fun food, you need to make it look _good_ at least.

Looking at the others, he puts on his best innocent expression, twiddling his thumbs together, and just waiting for the reaction.

It wasn't mean to eat their ice cream. He paid for it, after all, and he thinks that gives him a right to eat their forgotten foods, instead of watching the ice cream melt away in this shop's heater. Honestly, with a shop consisting of cream cakes, ice cream, and jello, you'd think they would turn the heater down a notch.

Surprisingly, it's Nicholas who's the first to react, his head turning back to his ice cream, to hand it to the grumpy Australian, only to end up agape at the sight of the empty bowls. Sanderson isn't able to control it, and puts on his smuggest face to date. Aster and Toothiana were next, both flabbergasted at it.

They all then glance to Sanderson, and had finally put two and two together. Or three. Or four. Sanderson had a lot of ice cream today, alright.

"Sandy..." Aster begins, only to be interrupted.

" _Sandy_!" North shouts, voice accusing, as Toothiana frowns back down to her empty bowl. Sanderson laughs, hardly making any noise, and then hands the notebook to the Russian, as if it answered it all.

The three 'victims' all read the page written on, translating it from the curly cursive Sanderson always used, only to laugh. Except Aster of course, but then again he _did_ chuckle, so it must count for something, right?

"You are buying us more right?" Toothiana manages to giggle out.

She receives a shrug, and an eye roll; his look which meant the word ' _maybe_ '. You see, he had looks he could speak with. Amazing, really, when your friends hardly understand your sign language and charades. Very useful when giving lectures, too.

The bell to the little shop chimes, then, and, as most people who've eaten at diners and such, everyone knows that when the door bells chime, or when it opens up, you just have to glance up. That's what Sanderson's group of friends did.

" _Dad_?" Aster chokes out, surprise in his features.

Aster's father was never one to go out for sweet things, or restaurants, so seeing the man here right now was a bit shocking to say the least. Damien, Sanderson believes the man was called. The man had introduced Sanderson and Aster when they were children, he remembers.

The man looks over to his son, and sends him a slight nod accompanied by a smile. "Hello, Aster." he greets. "I didn't know you were out today. Weren't you supposed to be in school right now?"

Sanderson, followed by the other three of the group send each other nervous glances. They had all decided to skip out today for some ice cream and a trip to the park. It was North's idea mostly, as he had walked up to the others and told them about how they never hang out as much anymore. So, it's safe to say -

' _lets blame north_ ' Sanderson quickly signs out, knowing his friends at least knew that much of his language.

The Russian sputters. "No! I am not to blame! Is Aster!"

Damien laughs at that. "I'm not making you go back." he responds. "I actually really hoped you'd be here right now." he looks to the floor, before looking down to the floor, a look of sadness falling over him for a moment.

"Is anything wrong?" Toothiana asks, seemingly picking up the look herself. Damien sighs, shaking his head.

"No, but I forgot my wallet. Can someone buy me two cones, please? I'll pay back later." he then turns his attention to Aster. "And could you come help me? Jess' son is staying at our place, and he wants to stay starting today. We need to get some of his stuff."

Aster huffs. "Why can't he just do it himself?" he crosses his arms.

"Because you're better." Damien smiles. "Look at you - all _muscle_! You could have it done lickity split!"

Sanderson rolls his eyes, knowing how this game played out pretty well; his father does it with him all the time, and a lot of times he barely even realizes he was shoved into the kitchen duties until it was far too late.

Today it looked like Aster wasn't entirely falling for it, though, as he also rolls his eyes at the man.

"Alright, alright." Aster sighs. "But make that _three_ ice creams. Sandy decided to have a contest without us."

* * *

Jackson hums along to the beat of the radio. Whatever channel this was, he liked it. It was certainly a whole lot different than the old tapes Jackson had listened to over and over. There was no Elvis or pink Floyd, but the strange beats were really, really good. He'd have to ask if Damien had a pen, so he could write the channel number to his hand or something.

After they had left the house, Damien had given Jackson his scarf, and a hat. The hat was one of those ones you see from old shows like ' _last of the summer wine_ ' or ' _keeping up appearances_ '. Actually, the better term was 'england-ified'. There. New word. Add it to your vocabularies.

The car the man drove was pretty nice, though, all sleek looking and new. If not for the little scratches here and there you could catch a glimpse of every so often, one would think he actually just bought the vehicle. The interior was a dark grey, and the radio brand new. And it also had one of the most important things to a car; cup holders, one of man's greatest inventions.

Damien hadn't asked which shop to go to, so Jackson didn't bother sending the man anywhere specific. He'd have pointed the man to his weekend workplace, but Boss would have thrown too many chocolate chips in the ice cream if she knew Jackson was the one receiving it. She had a way of spoiling whoever she liked. He often wonders how sugar high her nephews get.

They were currently stopped outside of Valentines; one of the most popular ice cream shops for couples and lovers. Even though it was only in season one day of the year. He's never gone into it, but he has passed it on his walk to work and to school. It was one of those places that seemed to be an eye-catcher for how pink and frilly it was compared to the rest of Burgess.

Looks didn't matter right now, though. All Jackson wanted was a good chocolate ice cream, and a nap. Maybe Moxy would come out of hiding and let him cuddle with her for a while.

Oh, wait, Moxy. Oh, they just _left_ her there. Jackson wonders if she's hiding away in a corner somewhere, thinking he died or something. That cat normally doesn't come out of hiding until he shouts for her, so that was kind of worrying.

All well. She was fat enough; she wouldn't have to eat for a while, and he had a bowl full of water for her in his room, so it was all good if Damien kept him away from home for most of the night.

But then again, for his own mother to try to stab him? That was... _wow_.

Worrying his lip, he doesn't notice the two men walk up to the car, until Damien opens up the driver door.

"Wow, took you long enough."

Damien chuckles. "I tried to decide if you wanted anything on it. I hope sprinkles are your thing." he answers, handing over the cone, which Jackson took happily.

The back passenger door opening makes Jackson look behind him, only for his stomach to sink once more today. E. Aster Bunnymund. Oh boy this aught to be good, considering this may as well be Damien's son, who he had mentioned before.

Aster was a huge artistic nut, and wasn't afraid to show it. He was constantly praised in school for how wonderful his paintings were, and the school even hired him to paint their mascot - a wolf - on various walls across town. The guy was such a stiffy snob one day, so Jackson did what he always does to stiffs, or well, in this case, this particular stiff; stole a chemical from the biology classroom and dumped it on all the art room's seats.

The chemical was something that was like super glue. When it was warmed up, it would start to harden, and when it was cool, it would turn to jelly. Kind of like the opposite of lava. The perfect thing for such a wonderful prank.

Unfortunately, one of the tattlers at school saw him and reported him. Though, he did get to have a glimpse at the art students. Gosh, it was so, _so_ funny. He wished he took pictures.

Aster didn't like him for it, though, and even tried his best to confront him about the prank.

Okay, ' _tried_ ' as in, he couldn't catch Jackson. For such a guy with good muscle and handsome face, you'd think he'd at least be well trained in running. I mean, his name is Bunnymund, right?

Oh. Did he just call Aster _handsome_?

...let's ignore that.

"Alright, what th' bloody orchestra are you doin' here, ya dink?" Aster says, as soon as he spots the teen in the front seat. Damien sends him a harsh look, before getting into his own seat.

"Awe, you still got some glue up there?" Jackson smirks.

" _You_ -"

"Aster, Jackson." Damien's voice cuts the Australian off, and ending the probable insult before it even began. "We are not here for past things, and we are not here to cry to each other about how awful the other may be."

"You're beginning to sound a lot like Ombric." Aster points out. Ombric was the principle of the school Aster and Jackson went to, and was a very wise man, if you ever managed to talk with him. His daughter had run off a few years ago with some guy, and ever since then Ombric has been burying himself in his studies and work, so it was really hard to get his attention most days, unless you were in big trouble.

"Agreed." Jackson nods. "You could be our new principle if you keep it up."

Damien sighs. " _Boys_." he says, in a way most parents say that means ' _stop talking_ '. Jackson's ever heard it once, but he does know what that tone of voice means, and respects it as much as he respects his love of chocolate.

As soon as the children stop talking, Damien nods to the silence as if in approval. "Now, Aster, this is Jess' son. He will be staying with us for a while -"

Aster huffs at that.

"- and I want you two to get along." Damien continues. "Jackson, this is Aster, my son-"

"Pretty hunky for a son." Jackson cuts in, unable to keep quiet.

"- please be nice to him."

"Why does he have to stay with us? I mean, ya got North 'n Toothiana; he could stay with them!" Aster rants. "Even _Sanderson_ could take in the trouble maker!"

Damien send Jackson a look. ' _can I tell him?_ ' it seemed to ask. Jackson shakes his head at the man, because for Aster to know what had really gone down, meant that Aster would have something to blackmail with, and Jackson was probably the worst at stopping rumors and talk.

The older man sighs once more. "Something happened between Jess and Jack, so he plan on living with us until Jess comes back from Germany."

"You told me that on the way here." Aster nods. "Why are you repeating?"

"Because Jackson doesn't know."

Jackson blinks over at the man, chewing on some of the sprinkles from his food. "What don't I know?"

"That you're staying with us, remember? - We have enough time today to pack your things and -"

"Woah, woah, woah, woah and _woah_." Jackson cuts the man off. "Who said I was leaving _today_? - I have plenty of time to wait! Listen, I can handle you stealing me away to your house, but not today!"

"No you don't!" Damie barks. "I'm not sending you back to that - that _heathen_!"

"She's my mother, you jerk!"

"Hey, lay off my old man!"

The three of them seem to be stuck in a quiet, sizzling air for a moment, before Jackson sighs, moving to run his fingers through his hair gently, mindful of the wound still healing there from the fork incident.

"Listen, I've dealt with her for all of my life." he says honestly. "She's mean at times, but she's my _mom_ , you know? - I can't just leave her like that. I wouldn't want to be left alone, if I were in her place."

" _No_." Damien snaps at him, voice soft now, as he understood Jackson's sentiment. "I'll let you see her off on Friday, but I don't want you to go back."

"What's this about again?" Aster asks, causing Jackson to shrug.

"Jess started a fight, and I don't want Jackson to stay there." Damien answered, taking a huge bite out of his ice cream. Jackson hopes the man gets brain-freeze. Maybe if Jackson could get a hold of a cellphone he could call the police for kidnapping -

Nah. He didn't even know his own address, so what could he say to a cop? ' _I was kidnapped but I don't even know where I live_ '? Yeah, real smooth, Jackson, real smooth.

"Ah." Aster nods. "He probably started up some trouble, didn't he?"

Damien huffs. "Be nice, Aster." he reminds the other. "If Jackson is going to stay with us, I don't want to hear the two of you bickering."

"But he -"

Damien cuts him off by turning up the radio, causing Jackson to laugh, and Aster the cross his arms and huff loud enough for it to be heard over the catchy beat.

The man turns it down a moment later. "Now, finish up eating. We've got some work to do if we're to get all Jackson's stuff before sundown."

"Da," Aster gives the older man a look. "you didn't hand me my ice cream."

"Oh." Damien chuckles, handing over the melting cone. "Sorry."

* * *

 **Aster eeeeee *screeches* He's finally herrree im so happy arent you?**

* * *

 **Leave an O if you liked and an X if you didn't.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I made a mistake in the last chapter, not that it really matters. I rushed that one, anyway, so have this kinda mildly rushed chapter to make up for it. ( as in: this is super duper rushed i have no life please dont hurt me )**

* * *

The car ride was like being shoved inside of a tiny room full of hate gas, mixed with a bit of curiosity and loud, upbeat music that vibrated the seats with the bass overload. Jackson knew Damien didn't mean to have the music up so loud, but after a few more minutes of that awkward atmosphere, the man had decided to reach over and turn it up. Jackson couldn't blame the guy, really, as he was doing his best to ignore everything as well.

The possibility of Jess not coming back from her trip was looking more and more possible, what with how fast Damien decided to pull the 'I'm an adult and this is me adulting' facade all over the place. Jackson would be surprised if he came home and all his things were left alone, or if Moxy wasn't let outside again. Lord knows that cat has a heart attack anytime she's outside, the poor thing.

Damien certainly liked to make himself appear like a wimp, but he wasn't anything close to it, Jackson thinks. The man must have some kind of super power or something, where he just switches emotions whenever he tried out the whole parent thing. If he hadn't have freaked out and pulled his little charade out of nowhere, Jackson would still be home, finishing up his work, and heading to bed for a well-deserved nap.

Aster was very quiet, though, and it made Jackson a bit nervous. The older was staring out the passenger window, silent as the dead while the music played it's strange melody. It was a bit weird from the times Jackson had seen the man in class, as every time he had seen him, Aster was usually talking loudly along with his little group of friends, arguing about little things, discussing little things, doing what a person would do, really.

Jackson, though, was quiet, yeah, but at least he was used to not talking, and thus not weird when he never spoke up. For Aster to be quiet must mean the man was _thinking_ , and Jackson just knew that it was probably a horrible thing. Perhaps he was surprised at the change of events, too? - Damien had to explain everything to him, after all, and so it wasn't too surprising that Aster was planning to up the prank Jackson had pulled before. Hah. Jackson would love to see him try, really, because he knows that the man would never be able to pull a good one on him.

They had to go all the way up to the town of Berk just to pick up some old boxes from a store or two. Jackson had argued against it, because he didn't really have all that much stuff to take with him, but Damien had shushed him and Aster just joked along, telling Jackson to stop fighting the older man; Damien never lost an argument in his life, when he entered his 'parent mode'.

"Yeah?" Jackson says. "Does he have some kind of thing, in where he goes around, finding and kidnapping people?"

Aster smirks. "Only when he thinks they need to be kidnapped."

"That's pretty dark. Like 'a psychopath, killing people because he thinks they need' it kind of dark."

The other doesn't respond after, but the slight smile never leaves his face. What was with this guy? Did he find it humorous, how Damien was kidnapping him like this? - Er, well...not really kidnap, but you know what I mean!

"I'm just doing the right thing." Damien pipes up, as the car slides to a stop at one of Berk's famous 'fuck-you' red lights. Those lights last forever, really, when it seems like you're in a hurry. "It's either you come with me, or I call the police and you go with them."

"I'm _sixteen_." Jackson argues.

"Good." Damien smiles. "That means you can help me with the house."

Jackson almost flinches at that, only the twitch of an eyebrow being the mention of how much that had bothered him. Why was he even bothered by that, anyway? - It's not like Damien was going to try to enslave him or something. The man was probably joking. What a very dark and crude humor the man must have, to turn their situation into a joke of sorts. Jackson liked that dark humor, but right now didn't seem the time.

As the teenager thought on and on about it, Damien sends him a worried glance. "I was joking, Jack." the man says quietly, as if talking to an animal that had been frightened or something. "I promise you won't hate it, living with us." he then adds nervously. "No one is going to make you do something you don't want to."

"What about my sister?" Jackson says, just now remembering about the phone number he was supposed to sneak off of Jess' phone. "I don't have her number or her address."

Damien smiles. "I'll see if I can find something when we pack up your things, alright?"

The car then goes forward, the light finally turning green. Berk was a strange town compared to Burgess, because in this town everyone seemed angry, and a little on the overweight side. Kind of like the town is full of angry vikings driving around, cursing at every ridiculously long stop light or screaming bloody murder to every squirrel crossing the road.

That was a very entertaining thought, Jackson chuckles silently to himself. He's only been to Berk once or twice in his life, but now that he thinks about it all, it would be a nice town to live in if you had a fixation on old-timey people and cursing galore. It did snow all the time, like Burgess, though, so it wasn't all-together too bad on view, unless you decided to stop and look at people on the sidewalks or whatever.

They stop at a store whose name Jackson couldn't really read, as it was written in some kind of language he didn't really know about. Damien parks the car, and then turns it off, along with the music and noise. Jackson wasn't about to complain, though, because he liked the view outside more than the tune that was playing, and so it really didn't matter too much to him.

Opening the car door, Damien looks behind his seat to Aster. " _Behave_." he points a finger to the other, as if scolding a dog, with a playful smile on his well-rounded face. "I'm going to get some boxes." With that, he gets out, and closes the door, only to walk up to the store and disappear inside of it. Jackson assumed the store was about boats and such, perhaps a bait shop, even, as it had all kinds of sailor-esk decorations hanging around it precariously to the sides.

The car was quiet, only a few noises from someone shifting being heard, or the slight pitter-pattering of too-small snowflakes raining on the roof of the vehicle.

"So, what did you do?" Aster asks.

Not even bothering to turn around to the other, Jackson shrugs. "I said things." he answered, after a second or two.

"Ah. Teenage drama finally rearing it's ugly head?"

The sixteen year old smiles at that. "Yeah." he agrees quietly.

* * *

When he saw his father enter Valentines, he was a bit worried, and surprised at the way the man looked. The man had that one face Aster knew all too well; the man only had the face if he found a dying puppy, or if he hurt himself, and neither of those things were good. When Damien had told him to come along with him to help, he was reluctant to go at first, since he wasn't a huge fan of seeing his parent sad and gloomy, but then the man did a turn-around with his mood, and was happy when he said yes.

He did wonder if it was a trap just to get him back to school or to go home and clean the dirty dishes, but no, oh no, it just HAD to be _HIM_.

 _Jackson Overland._

Aster was sure life was either out to kill him, or his father, the cheeky bastard, figured it would be just A-okay with Aster to let the little hazard stay with them for a while.

Jackson was one of the worst trouble makers in school, always laughing about some little thing here or there, and always, always, getting into trouble one way or another for stupid little things like stealing all the toilet paper from the men's room or something else. Aster had fallen for many pranks the goof had pulled, and had nearly chased the little dink around the school had he not been stopped by Toothiana and Sanderson.

He looks at his phone, and sighs at all the messages his little group of friends had sent him once he told them of his predicament. Each and every one of them had a flair of innocent match-maker to them, including Sanderson's, who had the most obscene and vulgar text images to them, instead of just words, along with many, many smilies and winks. Toothiana had acted as if she were screaming, and North just sent some unreadable Russian words along with a few winks himself.

The reason for their reactions was simple enough: He may or may not happen to think Jackson was a _very_ good person.

Hah. No. Scratch that. Looking across the car, to see the younger there, so close, was much like a child, looking into one of those gumdrop machines, wishing they had a quarter to spend. It was much like a flower to the Earth, if you thought about how he felt about the white-haired menace.

Though, admitting it to himself had been much, much harder to do. It took him months to realize it all, and the reason being that Toothiana had to throw it out to him one time at lunch, over a medium-sized pizza and an old movie. Aster won't admit it to her, though. Knowing her she would make herself a little button with the words 'Aster/Jackson fan' on it, and that wasn't something Aster wanted the whole school to see, let alone have rumors about.

 **-9:00, Sandy -**

 **S:** ;) ;) ;)

Oh God, another one. Geesh, Sandy, don't you have an essay to write or something? You'd think the guy would lay off a little, or at least do more than send off more winks and suggestive images Aster's way.

 **-9:01, Bunny-**

 **S:** ;) ;) ;)

 **A:** Ya I hear ya sandy -

Aster tosses the phone onto the other seat then, intending to just leave his friends hanging, just until everything settled down a little bit more. Damien had walked into the store not but a second ago, and so it was a bit less stuffy than it was before. Then again everyone always says that a room is less stuffy without their parents in it anyway, right?

Jackson is fiddling around with the hem of his hoodie, looking out the window, possibly watching the small snowflakes outside. Aster wanted to say something, anything really, just to perhaps entertain both himself and his crush.

He blurts out words that he feels terrible for, after: "So, what did you do?"

Jackson doesn't even spare him a look, and he was sure right then and there he had probably ruined his chance of ever really redeeming himself, until: "I said things." Jackson replies, with a shrug.

Aster finds himself frowning at that. "Ah. Teenage drama finally rearing it's ugly head?"

The quiet response he gets after that nearly makes himself slam his head into the back of the seat in front of him in frustration. He was not a people person, and when you happen to maybe like said person, it gets much, much worse.

Instead he huffs angrily at himself. "Well just so you know, there's going to be a few rules in place at my home." he starts, suddenly remembering that Jackson probably wouldn't mind a few pointers on rules or something.

Okay, really, he just wanted Jackson to talk to him, to laugh or something, like he usually would when talking to someone. This quietness was a part of Jackson that mildly scared Aster, and he just didn't really like it all too much.

"Okay." Jackson says. "I think I could handle it."

"First rule: No ruining the garden." Aster states off. In truth there wasn't any real rules, but he was trying his best to lighten the mood up a little bit. Aster knows how hard it is to deal with a new household without a little rules in place.

( Also he just wanted the other to smile again, dammit! _Smile_! )

A chuckle, a sweet silence-breaking chuckle comes from the front seat. "You mean no running into your trees, or no climbing them?"

For a second Aster was sure that could be easily twisted around to make a perverted joke if Sanderson had been here, but he just huffs instead. "Okay, first off; how did you know I had trees? - Second off, no, don't climb them I worked hard on them."

"You mean you hugged them everyday before work?" Jackson answers cheekily.

"What - _No_!" Aster growls. "Just because I love gardening and happen to have a lot of trees doesn't mean I hug them!"

"- Do you hug them goodnight?" Jackson continues ignorantly, smiling while looking behind him to the other.

"Jack -"

"Do you fix all their booboos and tell them _bedtime stories_?"

Aster sighs, dragging a hand down his face in exaggeration. "Why must you do this to me?" he groans. He did in fact love to see the other smiling and joking after being so quiet for so long, but he hated how long the other can hold onto something like that and make it into something else. Honestly, it was only gardening. It wasn't like he was babysitting.

He knows it's a joke, but he can't help but be annoyed at it.

" _Awe_ ," Jackson coos. "did I just wear you out right now? - I'm just getting started!"

"Be careful; I'll be the one lugging heavy boxes of junk from your house to the truck."

Jackson laughs at this. "I can always push you off the stairs! - Besides, who says _you're_ going to carry it all? - I want you to hold the cat."

"C-cat?"

"Yeah! My cat, Moxy. She'll just _love_ you." the almost-albino answers. "Especially when we go to grab the pet carrier."

"I..." Aster frowns. "I'm not that great with animals." he says.

"But - but you are an animal, Kangaroo!"

It took a good minute of silence for the elder to actually get it, surprisingly enough, even if it was an over-used joke.

Snapping out of it, finally catching the little jibe for what it was, Aster growls out again, louder this time, lunging forward to grab at the other, while Jackson ducks forward as far as he could go, laughing loudly, dodging the hands, and whapping the other over the head with one of Damien's old mechanic magazines.

Jackson's seat belt decides to lock up from his leaning too far, while Aster's wasn't even on at the time, and with that the almost-albino's movement was limited. Aster manages to head-lock the shorter, rubbing his arm furiously through white locks, as he playfully threatens the other.

Just then the car door opens, startling both of them into freezing, and looking at the person who looks in on them like deer in headlights.

"I thought I told you to behave!" Damien frowns, a look of disappointment in his face. Aster releases Jackson, and goes to sit back in his seat as the other fixes his seat belt, along with his hair.

"He started it." Jackson huffs.

"I'm sure you were the bloke with a stick up his -"

Damien holds up a hand, and after years of living with the man Aster knows that's the signal to shut up; His mother used to click her tongue as a warning, he also remembers as well. He rubs at his own hair, fixing his as well, from the little play fight.

"Now that is over." Damien starts, going to sit in the car, closing the door behind him. "Buck said he had a few boxes in the back but the only problem is, is that they're behind a bunch of old nets. It'll take a few minutes or so to get them."

"Figured th' old sod wouldn't have them ready when you called." Aster rolls his eyes.

"You call him buck? Is that short for bucket or...?" Jackson asks.

"Yup." Damien nods.

"Well I figured - wait...really?"

"His name is bucket, mate." Aster answered. "Much more stupid name than Jack Frost don't you think?"

"Awe." Jackson pouts. "Tell you what; next life I get I'll change my name to something better, just for you!"

"Little bo peep?" Aster snorts at his own suggestion.

"Why, Aster, you actually made a good name!" Jackson claps his hands together happily at that. "You can expect my next reincarnation to have the very same name!"

"But what about your last name?"

"It needs a last name?"

"You guys..." Damien rubs a hand through his hair, sighing at the stupid conversation. Aster was pretty sure the man was still worried about something, but also pretty sure that the man was a bit angry right now, for reasons even Aster wouldn't wish to know.

The man, after all, works as a vet. As in for animals. He probably saw kittens die on a daily basis, because he always came crying home to Aster about it. Sure, Aster was tough and he never really cried or shed tears about such a thing, but it did make him feel just a twinge of sadness upon hearing that sputter from his own father's lips every once in a while.

Jackson on the other hand...he looked to be worried as well. Kind of like that one time he had hidden a few squirrels inside the old unused art room. Good load of chaos that happened after someone had spooked the little things. Aster wasn't there for the whole thing but he does remember Toothiana spending her time getting a shot or two because one the the fluff-balls had bitten her on it's way out. No one knew how many were shoved in the room, nor did anyone really want to find out at the time.

They had even called off school for that day just to deal with the little things. Kind of why his group of friends never really wanted to mention it, because, hey, having a Friday off? - probably the best gift you could get.

Of course Aster was angry, though. Or well...he WAS happy but at the same time he was also angry because Jackson had kept several wild animals inside. That was...how the hell did Jackson even get them in the school, let alone inside a classroom? Just...how? Was he, from what Sanderson had joked about, a disney princes in disguise?

Who knows.

"How can you be so...happy?" Damien asks, obviously directing it to Jackson, who shrugs.

"Must be the ice cream."

"Yeah...I guess so." the older man says in a softer voice, flipping the key to where the car's heater finally blasted on for them, warming up the vehicle in little less than a few minutes.

* * *

Eventually Buck had finally gotten out the boxes from the back of his storage, and had even let them borrow his truck, letting them leave the car in his garage until they came back, after hearing a few things about Jackson moving in with the Bunnymunds.

Not that Jackson wanted to, but he kind of gave up fighting it. He believed he would be able to talk to his sister as soon as he gets her number from Jess, plus maybe, if he were lucky enough, Damien had a laptop or a computer and would let him on it. It's been a good month or two since his Boss had let him on her computer, and so he kind of missed it. His computer was broken and old enough that the browsers wouldn't work until he updated it, which was near impossible with how old it is, so it was next to useless.

Oh God...his work. How would he be able to get there on time? - He didn't have a license, nor did he own a bicycle. He'd have to get up even earlier just to get to work. ( Or not. His work hours mostly consisted in the afternoon, but still, it would probably be a long walk if the street Aster had mentioned he lived at was anything to go by when you thought of the distance. )

The truck was cramped, to say the least. There wasn't a radio, there wasn't a heater or buttons to put the windows down. It was one of your typical 'just bought this for $30' kind of truck; it had long lost the new in it. It was like an old man, even, if Jackson would wish to go that far into detail, as the once red paint was now a dull and scratched up pinkish grey with a few good sploshes of just plain metal showing through on the hood.

All in all it was kind of a death trap experience, which had Aster cursing every little 'chug' it made and nearly yelling out when the old truck had almost died on them at another red light.

It was cold, though. Jackson loved the cold, yeah, and he loved the snow with all his heart, but he was only human, and everyone knows what it feels like to be so cold you could see your breath and feel every ache in your bones. Thankfully he was squished between Damien and Aster.

Er...not that he appreciated being stuck between two sort-of muscular-ish dudes. Not that Damien was completely muscled, but if anything that man could still manage to toss Jackson down a bridge if he so wanted, so Jackson considered the man muscle-ish. They were very good heaters, though, and so he didn't complain a lot about it if their elbows brushed here and there.

Aster on the other hand...it almost seemed as if he were trying to snuggle up to him. The man WAS right next to the cracked window, though, so Jackson could only assume it was because of that. Thank the moon Aster at least had some good smelling cologne on...not that he noticed or anything. ( Yes he noticed. It smelled really good. Kind of a soft scent, not too hard on the nose, just right...)

Was he turning into a creep because of a dude's cologne? Yes. Yes he was. But if anyone asks him how his ride in the truck was he'd say it was horrible and stinky.

It took them a good thirty minutes just to get to his own town due to the old truck puttering along. It took them another ten minutes even getting to his house, and by that time he was nearly in a panic about the idea of facing Jess again.

He loved his mother, he really, really did, but after this morning? - His outburst wasn't something she wanted, and she always got her comeback at one point or another. He was worried she would corner him or hurt Damien...would she?

Jackson didn't really know if she would, seeing as how her and Damien were sort-of old friends, but he couldn't say that she wouldn't, either. She had the temper the opposite of a saint and an even worse mouth, saying what she wanted without really thinking.

He was scared, though, when they pulled into his driveway - her driveway, now that he was leaving. It was just about midnight, it taking about an hour just for Buck to uncover the boxes Damien had wanted, and Jackson knew she would either ignore them, or well...be _angry_.

Jackson didn't much care for her being angry one bit, and slinks down his seat a little at the thought, squinting at the old house as if it was a present from hell he was forced to open.

Aster is the first to open the door and hop out, shivering a bit as he got his feet on the ground. "My feet's gone numb." he grumps, stomping a foot on the ground as he says so.

Damien laughs, also hopping out. "Come on, Jackson, time to pack your stuff up."

"It's midnight, though, right?" *

"It's eleven thirty. Besides, we're here, so why not get it done with?"

Jackson agreed with that a lot; at one point it was fast enough to keep his mother out of his things, plus keeping a good majority of his stuff and perhaps even a bit more, if he could remember which box had the old photos in it. On the other hand Jess could have called the police on Damien for kidnapping or for all three of them for trespassing, and there could be - as much as his mind say it's stupid - a police man in there.

He was frightened at the idea, but it didn't stop him from sliding out of the truck. His thoughts and doubts were most of the time wrong, and so he decides to hope for the best.

Should he take his old computer? - it was broken, yeah, but it did have some of his projects on there, and it'd be a bit of a hassle to restart all of it. Plus it had a few books on it he had downloaded at one point, and leaving it would be like leaving a book behind, and he loved his books far too much to let them sit like that in an attic to be forgotten or sold at the cheapest price.

Maybe. He'd have to see how everything goes. Besides, it's not like he hadn't been locked out of the house before; the window to the attic, right by his bed, was always unlocked. He was a great climber, so he would be able to climb on in and unlock the front door with little to no problem, if he didn't get everything this time.

Plus if that didn't work he always had plan B: crawling into the basement window. It was a very, very tight squeeze, but lucky him he was a very lithe person.

If all else fails he'd lockpick the door. He did it once, and he's still proud of himself for sitting there so long, patiently wiggling the little cold wire he had into the keyhole. He is such a genius.

Damien hefts out a few cardboard boxes from the back of the truck, handing them to Jackson and Aster. "I have to talk to Jackson's mother." he sheepishly says as explanation to the look Aster gives him, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "I'm sure you both are able to carry those."

"Please," Aster smirks, rolling his eyes. "I could carry a ton of these and still be able to."

"Pht." Jackson sends a smirk back to the other. "I could carry an infinity of them without a sweat." he challenges, as they make their way to the front porch. Jackson figured he'd need a good distraction right now - Aster just happened to be the best distraction.

"I could carry you, your infinity of boxes, and my ton of boxes altogether without a sweat!"

"Well I could carry you, your load of everything, and the world without trouble!"

Aster snorts. "You can't carry the world!"

"Yes you can!" Jackson argues, as Damien rings the doorbell. He turns to the older man, breaking the argument for a moment, "It's broken; Try knocking."

"How can you hold up something that's already being held up?" Aster continues.

"Handstand! - You can always lift up the world with a good handstand!" Jackson laughs at the expression that forms on Aster's face at that.

"Well -" the other cuts off, right as the door is opened. Jackson frowns, because the one to open the door was not Jess, but Mosmon, their elderly neighbor a block down from the Bennett's home.

She was a rather short woman, probably coming up to Jackson's chin, and she always had this scare-crow look about her, what with the constant frown on her face and the way her hair was usually ungroomed and a tangled, greasy mess. She wasn't too bad, though, but she listened - and believed - everything Jess told her, and so now Jackson was on the receiving end of a harsh glare.

"What do you want?" she spits, and yeah, okay, he was definitely going to get a shower later, just in case any old lady germs were contagious. Also because spitting on people was gross. Period.

"We - uhm - we came to get Jackson's things?" Damien answers with a frown, obviously not liking the angry woman any more than Jackson. Aster looks like he might just walk right passed her inside, though, with the way he keeps shivering, and sending his own nasty glare back at her tone of voice.

"Too bad -" she is just about to close the door on them when Aster's hand slams onto the wood with a noise that seems to echo. His glare never stops, and Jackson could almost swear that the other was growling low in his throat, much like a dog would when angry.

"Let us in." he says, voice low.

Jackson would have laughed out loud at how fast Aster was able to change the older women's mind, and he also would have chuckled at the dumbstruck look that swam across her face as she slowly let them inside. It was almost like a lever had been switched for her, and he was mildly surprised, as he walked into the house.

The first thing Aster did next was walk quickly over to the heater at the corner of the living room, dropping the boxes down onto the old couch with no care. This time, Jackson does laugh.

"What, the cold getting to you, kangaroo?" he says, doing his best to distract himself from the ugly woman still standing by the door.

"How about you go and get your shite so we can get home, to a nice, warm bed?"

Damien closes the door behind him as he wanders on in, and stops at that. "Bed?" he says aloud.

"Yeah, you know, the thing you sleep on?" Aster rolls his eyes.

"No, _BED_!" Damien frowns. "Aster, we have a guest room _without_ a bed in it."

"Oh."

Jackson frowns. "You could probably get my bed, couldn't you?"

Damien only sighs, shaking his head. "It's snowing outside. I don't want it to get wet, since we only have so many tarps in the back."

"True." Jackson said, shrugging, before making his way upstairs, only to juggle with his footing as soon as Moxy came runing down the stairway. "Hello to you, too!" he shouts down to her, only getting a look in return as the cat rushes forward to the 'new' people in the house.

Upstairs, he can already see a few boxes of Jess' which she must have packed within the time he was gone. The ladder to the attic - his once-room - wasn't down, though, so he knows Jess hasn't bothered going in there yet, to his relief. She always leaves the ladder down, since she can't remember how to put it up without it falling back to the floor.

One of the old perks of home, he smiles, setting the boxes aside to lower it gently. To imagine that this would be his last time doing so was a bit overwhelming; He knew Jess most likely wouldn't come back, but he can't help but wonder if she would, and she was telling the truth all along.

With another frown for today, he takes the boxes and makes his way up. Jess has always lied, so why would this time be any different? Did he even want her to go away? What if she had chosen to stay?

His room is the same as he left it, and he takes in a large breath, just to get some of the old familiarity from it. He won't be seeing this place for a while, and so he'd have to enjoy it while he could. He sets off to the dresser first, making sure to neatly put everything inside there into the box.

Looking around, though, he knows he doesn't have a lot of things - personal, or otherwise. He had the necessities, which he was happy about, but other than his books, and a few other small things he had, he didn't have much. In fact, if he took the largest box that Aster had sat onto the couch downstairs, he could probably just fit everything into that.

He unplugs his old computer, though, making sure to pack it along, deciding that he could perhaps sell it or something. Lord knows he has so many files on the old machine that it would be a huge regret to leave it here.

Next he had to find all the cat toys. Sure, he could get Moxy new ones, but he was lazy and Moxy didn't appreciate newer items until Jackson threw them around the room. Again: He was lazy. He also didn't like throwing around cute, tiny items just to please his spoiled cat. He loved her, he did, but sometimes it got a bit annoying. Especially when she decides to hide the toys everywhere in his room.

He makes sure to check in all corners and underneath the dresser, before heading to the bed to grab the ones underneath that. To his surprise there was another book underneath his bed; he must have pushed it underneath there and forgotten about it.

The book was nothing special; a leather cover with no words. It was probably a diary or something. He promises himself that he'd check it out later. *

He then reaches inside his pillowcase to pull out his wallet, checking inside it out of curiosity; five dollars, yay, he can buy like one meal with it. ( He is silently glad that Jess will no longer be around to steal his medication or his checks. He was getting tired of it. )

He then closes the box, tucking the sides in like how Jess had once taught him, pushing the thing aside; it had everything in his room that he actually wanted to bring, since there really wasn't much else.

Then again he should go to his sister's old room and grab some things; Jess never bothered much with the room, but Jackson knew that his sister had some things she never wanted their mother to ever get a hold of, much less know she had - like diaries, photos, the kind of things Jess would most likely either throw out or burn.

Just as he was going to grab the box to head down the steps of the ladder, he looks down to see Aster standing there, crossing his arms, giving him a questioning look. "Your room was in the attic?" he asks.

"Yeah." Jackson replies, before handing the box down, which was carefully handled by the other, and set to the side. Jackson climbs down skillfully fast, and puts up the ladder just about as easily as breathing, all within a few seconds. "I still need to go through my sister's junk."

"I thought she left?" Aster follows Jackson down the hallway.

"To Germany, yeah." Jackson answers. "But she had some things she didn't want left around. I told her I'd take care of them."

Aster goes quiet as they reach the door; it was still the strange off-white color it was when they first got the house, with nothing but a tiny sticker of a flower any indication of whose room is had been. Opening it was like walking into a portal, really - perhaps a portal to Emily's mind, even, with all the notes and photos she had tacked on one of her walls.

The notes weren't anything much, just old reminders or numbers from old math classes. The photos were mostly old ones of their family, and it kind of resembled a family tree, if you wanted to really say it like that. She never found all of their family, nor did she ever contact them, but she found a lot of their cousins and uncles that way. It was always her big dream to bring everyone together again in a family reunion, or to know everyone in some way.

He did too, but he long lost that wonderful dream the moment Emily stepped out the door and never came back. He was sure his older brother - wherever he may be - felt the same dream slip from his fingers the moment their father died. It was a hard one to keep, that was for sure, and he wouldn't blame anyone for never even dreaming it.

He gathers the photos up, though, being careful as can be with the older pictures, while Aster helped. Each photo had a name on the back and a year, all in Emily's messy cursive, and each note had a mark on it that indicated if it were important or not. Emily was smart enough to leave him that, since knowing him he'd just grab all the notes and notebooks and shove them in a box without some kind of guidance. She knew him all too well.

Her main diaries were hidden skillfully inside her mattress; she had asked Jackson a long time ago to use his old pocket knife on a side of it, where she could hide them. It was messy, if you actually were to see the rip, but thankfully Jackson had helped her stitch it up. Now, though, all he needed was a pencil to open the rip, getting a silly look from Aster as he pulled out three ribbon-tied and worn books.

Jackson rolls his eyes at the other, dumping the books carefully inside the box. "Emily didn't want anyone to read them." he answers, without needing to be asked. "Diaries are like that."

Aster snorts. "What, did they have the cure to cancer in them?"

"No, but they did have her thoughts in them, I think." Jackson continues pulling out photo albums and notes out from underneath the bed. "That's a pretty private thing."

"Yeah, yeah." the other huffs quietly in amusement. "But why hide them like that?"

At this, the younger frowns, looking away a bit as they made their way to the bookshelf. It wasn't something Jackson wanted to talk about, at all. He also didn't want to give Aster hardly any information on his life, if he could help it. Having Damien find out was bad but having Aster find out...he wasn't sure how the other would act, and if the scare he gave Mosmon was any indication of how he handled things, then Jackson really didn't want to know how he'd start acting to Jess.

He takes the few books still on the shelves, left there by his sister, to ( hopefully ) add to his own, should he be allowed to purchase a bookshelf in the future. Thankfully the books were the ones he hadn't read before, followed along by a few more of the thinner diaries that had been well-hidden between the pages of other books.

He could have taken this room, actually, when Emily had left, but looking at it now, he understands why he never did; it just felt too much like his sister. It felt as if she would walk through the door anytime, to find him snooping through her stuff whenever he went inside this room, and though it made him feel sad, it also made him feel as if he were walking inside of a memory that should be as it is: a memory.

Also the fact that, though the sheets on the bed were nice and inviting, the carpet was plush as ever, and the notes ruffled in a welcoming way on the wall, it was just so... _Emily_. Pink, sure, but also Emily. He can still smell that tacky flower scented perfume she used to wear, and it made him feel nostalgic.

Her diaries weren't that neat, some ranging in size and shapes, and the cursive inside being mostly messy and sometimes not even following any real line, curving along the edges of paper until her thoughts were on it. He didn't look a lot at them, though, but he has peeked every once in a while, on days where he worried too much to work on his homework, or on nights where he missed listening to Emily talk to the snow at night.

She, funny enough, used to talk to the snow outside. Jackson would talk to the moon, sure, but to talk to the snow? That was pretty weird. Then again, they were a weird sort of people, who did weird sort of things. He was sure everyone had something to talk to, when no person would listen. He even sometimes talked to the house, or even a spider on the ceiling, so...to each their own.

Finally packing away the rest of the books, photos, and all the important notes, plus checking around for other things, they both pack up the box they had everything in, Aster taping it closed with some tape he had found inside Emily's old desk.

The two boxes were then brought downstairs, Jackson letting out a quiet laugh at Aster, who had almost tripped down the staircase as Moxy ran up them. They set the boxes aside by the couch, next to Damien, who was looking through a book. Mosmon must have left to the kitchen.

Jackson wonders if the older woman really knew what had gone down, if she had received a watered down version, or was merely lied to for pity. You never know, with Jess. It didn't really matter, either, but Jackson couldn't help but wonder sometimes on what his mother had told people. He knew that Damien hadn't really listened to her or believed her as much as the other people had, but it was still a little mystery to think about.

"Why are you so quiet?" Aster asks, just as they walk back upstairs. "Where's your oldies at?"

Jackson chokes on a laugh, letting out a 'pht' noise at that. "Oldies?"

"Parents." the other answers, sending a look Jackson's way. "What did you _think_ it was?"

"Underwear."

"Where in El-Ahrairah's name did you get that?"

"What's el-a-ra? Is that like a lotion or something?"

"You know what?" Aster runs a hand down his face. "I think I want you to stop talking."

Jackson laughs another quiet laugh. "You know what? - I think I'll _keep_ talking, just because you want me to, bunbun."

Aster looks at him as if the other had just slapped him. "What?" he asks without explanation, but Jackson already knows what he's asking about.

"Bunnymund? Bunny. Bunbun." Jackson answers, going into another room, a wide smile on his face. This probably was the first time he ever truly smiled or laughed in this house, and he was feeling ten times better already, even at the expense of a certain artistic nut, who happened to be following him around like a lost puppy.

"Wha-" said mister bunny starts, only to stop at the almost-closed door in front of him, Jackson blocking his way into the room in the gap.

"Hey," Jackson starts. "can you leave me alone for a minute?"

It is then that Aster takes a peak into the room behind Jackson, spotting it was a bathroom, and sheepishly rubs the back of his head, a faint blush coming onto his cheeks at that. "Er..."

"Shoo!" Jackson makes his hands wave in a shooing motion. "Go, cottontail, off downstairs. I'll be there in a bit."

"I -" Aster starts again, only to stop himself, and slowly turns around to walk back down the hallway, looking even more flustered as he was just a second ago.

Man, if Jackson knew how easy it would be to make the other embarrassed, he'd have gone to the bathroom a while ago. Who knew that _the_ Aster Bunnymund could actually become so flushed at such a little thing?

Besides, it wasn't like he was really going to poo. That would be weird. Like, a 'last poo for the prisoner' kind of weird. He was just going to see if he could grab his toothbrush and stuff. But again, he didn't like how Aster followed him around...it felt...well, it felt like something he wasn't sure he could place, and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

Better to let the other leave, than to be about as frazzled at the other had been when he saw the room was a bathroom. Gosh, if Jackson had a camera, Bunnymund's face just then would have been an amazing wall decoration. Like, he could sell copies of it for a few bucks to some of the girls at school, even. That would have been great.

After gathering the few things in the bathroom he needed, he places them to the side, and heads back into the hallway; he figured that now would be a good time to go inside Jess' room to check around. His mother might have written a few contacts of Emily's somewhere, or even some other family member's, and he was sure if he did go inside there that he could probably find something.

Of course, he did suspect her to be home, but usually she would be downstairs and raving worse than a rabid dog. Plus, Mosmon was here, so that meant that Jess was likely out. Mosmon was always hired to watch the house sometimes when Jess went out, so it was a fifty-fifty chance of his mother being home right now.

So, that being said, he sneaks into the room at the end of the hallway, creaking open the door, and goes into it as quietly as he can, as anxious about it as he was. He would have hesitated a little bit, but it was better to just grab and go, really, now that he thought about it. Plus, hey, he's hardly ever been to the room, so it sparked some of his 'adventurous' mood he used to get a long time ago.

It's dark in there, since the paint is a dark green color mixed with a sort of fern-like leaf trail going around the ceiling. Whoever had this house last had loved the color green, so this must have been their room. He then turns on the light, thankful that it was bright enough to make the darker color less so.

The room was large, with a small closet. There was a queen sized bed over in the corner, an old-ish television set in another corner, and a small shelf full of CDs next to it. In the other corner was a desk, practically shaped like a 'V', which held Jess' laptop, and an abundance of her notes. That's the first place he looks.

It was Monday, of course, so his mother was most likely in town with some of her friends, thank the stars. If she had been here, and had seen him sneaking around in her room, she would have done worse than simply make a go at him with a fork.

Pht. Fork. Was she a closet cannibal?

He giggles at his own thought, quietly, before looking through the few papers scattered around. Underneath the desk, there was a suitcase, and Jackson was about thirty percent sure it may or may not have his social security card in it. He wasn't too sure, though, but he takes it out a moment later to try opening it.

It's one of those old leather-y ones with the combination on the front of it. He may have picked the lock of the front door once, but he was no locksmith, nor was he a thief. That doesn't stop him from grabbing a metal measuring stick from the cup of pencils and stuff that sat on the desk. He wedges it in there, twisting it harshly, preparing himself for it to snap and for him to be completely hopeless.

Instead, though, it looked as if life was on his side for once, as instead of the stick breaking under the strain, the suitcase flops open, nearly making Jackson hit himself with the momentum, almost taking a tumble to the floor as the stick flies from his hands, to smack to the floor. Thank whoever for carpets, because that would have been a horrible noise had the floors been wood.

It was open, though, and he silently cheers for himself on that, looking through it; sure enough, there was his card, sitting right next to Jess' card. He leaves hers alone, despite the wanting to take it out and hide it underneath the bed just to anger the woman. He then scrambles around inside of the suitcase, finding a bucket-load of phone numbers, family names, and hospital papers than he could ever have imagined.

If he had a scanner, he would be scanning all of these right now, but instead he jut takes the numbers, his card, and manages to write down some of the other stuff, before shoving the suitcase back underneath the desk, slightly crooked, now that it was broke.

There's a lot of family here; aunts, uncles, grandparents, all kinds here. It makes him feel a bit angry, if not a bit vengeful.

Here - in his hands - were family, family he was told had all died, or left to somewhere far away. In his hands was something he wasn't sure would be a curse or a blessing, yet he held the papers as if he were cradling a child. His sister would have been thrilled, had she have been here, to know that, yes, they do have a family. _Their family was here all along_.

Not bothering to see the names on the notes, he quickly finds a shoe box, dumping out the high heels inside and pushing them underneath the bed, he shoves the papers inside, closing the lid over-top. He would look through all the papers and stuff later, when he had time.

He walks back outside the room, taking his little treasures with him, closing the door softly behind as he then makes his way to the bathroom, taking a towel and wrapping up the little bathroom things he had, to easily carry in one arm, while the other arm can carry the box.

Moxy must have finally stopped running everywhere, since he no longer hears the little pit-patter of tiny paws on carpet, nor the tiny mewling sound she makes when she runs. Either she stopped, or she found someone to pet her. Maybe a mix. Who knows, with that silly cat.

Which makes going down the staircase just a bit more safer. Have you ever gone down a staircase with a spoiled cat underfoot? - pretty hard not to trip, or step on said cat, if you asked him.

Inside the living room, Jackson is a bit relieved that Aster had gotten less red-faced within the short time he was gone. Still, a bit sad to see the look go, since he really wanted a picture of it or something. He could've hung it up on a wall or something.

"Y'done, Jack?" Damien asks, standing by the boxes now, instead of looking through a magazine like he was a minute ago.

"Yup." Jackson nods.

"Isn't it a bit weird to be bringing this much stuff?" Aster questions, tapping a box with his foot a if it would bite. "Isn't he only staying for a month or two?"

"We'll see." Damien says cryptically. "But for now it's fine. Help me load it in the back."

"Yeah, it's only two small boxes, flopsy," Jackson smirks. "Or is it too much for you?"

"You callin' me a wuss?"

"I'm calling you _something_." the other replies, placing the towel and the shoe box atop another box, to lift it up; it was the smallest one, of course, filled with the notes Emily had. Hopefully all this stuff will survive the ride to the Bunnymund's house, because if not he'll be one sore loser.

At this, Aster quickly goes to take the larger box, hefting it up with little to no trouble, and sending a smirk of his own to the shorter of the two. "Well I also have _something_ to call you."

"Yeah," Jackson starts to go out, the door being held by Damien, who rolls his eyes at the banter. "Like what?"

"Hum." the other hums loudly, going to set the box in the back of the truck, while also getting the overly large tarp out. "Dill? - Dipstick?"

"Nah, those names suck." Jackson shakes his head, letting Aster take his box, while he quickly scoops up the towel and the shoe box off the top of it.

"Twinkle toes? Fruit-loop? Bub?"

"Nope. Also, bub? _Seriously_?"

"Amarok? - Also, do you even know what that means?"

"No, but it sounds like something wolverine says all the time."

"Wolva-who?"

Jackson sighs. "Okay, tell you what - Help me get my cat into a carrier and I'll show you the wonders of marvel later."

Aster just shakes his head, opening the truck door without question, for Jackson to plop the shoe box and the towel inside. "Nope. That cat is a raving lunatic; no way am I getting near it."

"But you have to!" Jackson begs as Aster closes the door. "Think of the children!"

"What children? You?"

"Beats me, but think of how _devastated_ they'd be!"

Aster rolls his eyes, before draping an arm over Jackson's shoulder, giving the younger pause as he then drags Jackson back to the house, half-hugging him. "You and your imaginary children." he says as they step back inside. "Fine, I'll help; how do we get it in the carrier?"

Jackson shrugs. "I thought you knew."

Damien sighs. "Where's the carrier at, anyway?"

* * *

They had to wrestle the tiny beast tooth and nail just to get her inside the little pet carrier; she looked about as much as Aster felt, all glares and random hissing. She wouldn't even calm down to Jackson's voice, in fact, it was much like she didn't even notice him.

Aster was hastily handed the cage with a "I'll be too squished to hold her" and a pat on the back by Damien. Jackson had laughed when Aster gave him a sour look over it. It wasn't THAT big of a carrier, and Jackson could easily set it on top of the shoe box he had place in the truck, but no, Aster just _had_ to be the one to hold it.

He was certainly not a cat person. The cat was, obviously, aware of this, if the low growl and the paws patting at the door of the cage was anything to go by.

They had to pack up the liter box, and hey, turns out the cat needed it's own little box of things, too. Aster assumed that was what the shoe box was full of, anyway. Jackson must have spoiled this cat rotten for it to have so much stuff.

Imagining, though, a fluffy cat cuddling into Jackson's bare chest, while the white haired teen watched a movie...made him blush and nearly slam his head into the window at the thought.

Okay, he may not be a cat person, but cats were cute. There, he said it, now all you cat people know all about dog people and you can just go about your lives knowing dog people still think cats are adorable little devils.

Not that he was that into the whole cat idea, no, but he did like the Jackson idea, call him a poof.

But the way Jackson started to open up a bit as he helped was a nice thing. Jackson actually talked to him and, sure, it was mostly pokes and prods, but it was nice. It made his heart flutter just a bit, to be honest with himself, and he wasn't sure whether he liked the feeling or not, but decided it was a good one, nonetheless.

Jackson had to squeeze between both Aster and his father once more, stacking the towel on top of the shoe box on his lap for an easier hold, which left Aster back to the door seat once more, hating and cursing his existence just a little more at each putter the old truck would give out, and each gust of cold air that would sneak it's way in through the cracks of the window.

He wasn't sure if Damien was having a better time than he was, nor did he really care much. Still, it was cold, and he couldn't resist leaning a bit of his weight onto the one sitting next to him for warmth; he really should have wore his thicker coat today, curse Nicholas. He could have been all nice and warm if the other teen hadn't rushed him out the door at the butt-crack of dawn just to buy some ice cream.

Sandy still owes him, though, he'll make sure the little man knows that next time they go to purchase treats in town. Maybe if he played his cards right he can get something other than ice cream; like maybe some jellybeans. Those were great.

The body next to his shifts a bit, and he refuses to look at the other. He knows if he did he'd just end up all weird, and try to talk again. He was horrible at talking, really, or rather, he was horrible at words.

After a few minutes the body shifts once more, leaning into him, and it startles him enough to look this time.

Jackson - his sort-of -maybe crush - was fast asleep.

Oh boy.

( _Oh no._ )

He feels like banging his head onto the pet carrier, and he, in his flustered moment, does just that, causing Damien to jump, cursing a little in a shrewd language Aster never bothered to know, and the cat to hiss once more.

"What the heck, As-" Damien lowers his voice, then, spotting the sleeping occupant. "Oh." he says, then. "Oh." he says yet another time, but afterwards smiles slowly at his son as if he knew what was going on. " _Oh_." he then says, this time with a knowing tone, and a waggle of the eyebrows.

"Don't." Aster snaps quietly, shifting himself uncomfortable for a moment, doing his best to keep the sleeping asleep. "Stop it with that face."

It wasn't a question over whether Aster was homosexual or not, since he came out as bisexual a long time ago. Still, it was very - very hauntingly awkward, watching his own father give him the eyebrow wag and kissy face. He was pretty sure this moment will both scar him for life, and be his dream.

"So you like Jack, eh?" the other whispers, snickering, as the truck continues to chug along as if on its last leg.

"Please stop while you're ahead."

"But I think it's _cute_ -"

"Please no."

Damien sighs dreamily. "Oh, but think of the things I could set up -"

"Da -"

"Think of all the things I could do for you two -"

"Please -"

"Imagine how your first date would go -"

"Don't!" Aster snaps quietly again, causing the cat inside it's carrier to mew quietly and shuffle around. "It's just...it's _just_ a crush."

"You'll get over it?" Damien rolls his eyes.

" _I'll get over it_."

"How long?" Damien asks, and Aster goes silent, nothing but the small pitter patter of snowflakes against the truck being the only noise in-between them. " _Aster_ ," Damien says. "How long?" he asks once more.

Aster is blushing yet again within the day, and he turns his head to look out the window, so as to hide it, as he answers: "About a year and a half, now."

At that, the father just sighs, but this time more in disappointment than dreamily, the air from his mouth coming out on a white-ish cloud, fading away just as quickly as it had come out. "I figured as much."

The rest of the ride was silent, and that was the end of that.

* * *

 **Thank you for all your support, everyone! I may not reply or even breathe of my own existence on this website or anywhere else online, but do know that I love love love you all so, so very much and I laughed, and giggled at every little review I had! - Even the littler ones! I loved them all, thank you!**

 **Also ooohhhhh Aster has a crush?! gasp! ( as in wow how predictable amiright gosh i am so unoriginal )  
**

 _*1: It took them a whole day just to get things moving idk i wanted to leave time gaps so I could dabble into that time later._

 **( Sorry for taking so long to post this! )**

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 **O if you liked, X if you didn't!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry if the writing style differs here and there ( and that everyone is OOC i think). My mood chooses that for me so its either really bad or really good idk. This is basically a bunch of drabbles smashed Haphazardly together, unlike the chapters of before, so yeah.**

* * *

He blinks slowly, realization crawling through his mind like a silent phantom, clogging up his senses, only allowing the few in this situation to actually work. Aster's arm was wrapped around his shoulders with a comforting weight, seeming to nearly lull him back to sleep, despite his refusal to do so, and the other's cologne was practically stuck everywhere as if he had just shoved a bunch of it up his nose, and couldn't get it out.

The chill of the air surrounding him made him wish to curl up, even a little, inside this cold truck, but he knew if he tried to, it'd just go back to bite him later. Did Aster even know what he was doing? Did Damien?

Honestly, you would think that he could have a little shut-eye without having to worry about people or himself for just a little while. Waking up to this? He wasn't entirely sure what to think other than ' _comfy_ ' and ' _oh_ _my_ _God_ '. He was stuck in that anxious feeling you get when you want to move or say something, but feel like you can't.

He should just sit up and away from the other body, take the arm off from his shoulders, and laugh it off like he usually does to these awkward things. He should slap Aster or maybe pitch a couple jokes his way, to rile him up some and release him.

But _no_.

He reaches up to cover his burning face with a hand, closing his eyes tightly, while forcing himself to breathe slower, in order to not startle anyone.

Dear lord, help him. This was just _too_ much for today.

Of course his prayers were unanswered.

Aster, in his usual, normal state of mind, would never - _ever_ \- do such a thing as he was right now, with his arm over Jackson, and the younger curled up into his side. Aster would fuss or scream or - or - something, truly! Anything! Heck, even go on and on about vegetables and art!

Oh no, though, he just had to be fast asleep, head crooked in his other elbow, face scrunched up to the side of the pet carrier, Moxy inside said pet carrier looking as if she were going to murder someone. Aster is snoring very, very lightly, and Jackson wonders how the other can pull off such a feat before he slowly wipes his face with his hand, trying to make the blush go away.

He goes to sit up slowly, being sure not to wake the other up, only to stop and turn his head to his shoulder, where Aster's arm was draped around.

A blush makes its was to his face yet again at the fact. He reaches up to try to tug it over his head, but comes up short as a shush from Damien causes him to stop, looking over to the man.

Damien looked like the man who won the lottery, his eyes sparkling and his lips pulled tight into a smile, almost like he didn't want to laugh. He waves to Jackson. "About time." he whispers. "We're almost home."

Jackson blinks at that. "Home?"

The man chuckles as quietly as he can, giving the younger a wink. "Yep." he smiles humorously. "Where else could we go?"

Jackson faces foreword again, sitting up straighter than before, watching as the road narrows out into a sort of gravelly driveway. There's no light ahead, so Jackson could only assume that it was the Bunnymund's property they were driving into. By the way the driveway was mostly dirt, Jackson only expected it was a long one.

Then again, Damien once mentioned he was a veterinary, so he probably had some money. But to spend it on such a large property?

Maybe it was just for the view. There were all kinds of trees surrounding them, so you never know.

Damien jerks his head slightly to Aster. "Fell asleep a few minutes after you did." he quietly says.

"What time is it?" Jackson asks. "And what about your car?"

Damien huffs a laugh. "I'm going to get it tomorrow on my way from work; Aster doesn't have a permit yet, or he'd be driving the car back. It's also one thirty." he leans forward to tap the small clock on the dash. "This is the correct time, I think."

"Why would you want to continue driving this hunk of junk?"

The older shrugs. "Better than a bicycle?" he turns to Jackson to wiggle his eyebrows at him. "So you have a thing, or...?"

At the question Jackson blinks over at the man confusedly, before realizing he held Aster's hand in his own throughout their small conversation. He, flushed, releases it quickly with a tiny squeak of surprise, jerking up just enough to wake up Aster, who sits up albeit too quickly.

"Wha?" Aster groggily asks, wiping the drool from his cheek as he glances around to see what had woken him. He turns to look at the two. "Did I fall asleep?"

Jack laughs. "Awe, did wittle bun-bun take a nap?"

Damien snorts. "You're one to talk."

"Yeah, but I woke up before him, so I have a special privilege!"

Aster takes his arm from Jackson's shoulder, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to blink out the cracked window. "Oh, we're home. What timing." he comments.

"Yep." Jackson says. "Are we unloading all this tonight?"

"It's only like four boxes or so." Damien answers. "We could easily stuff it all in the guest room - er - your room. Or the living room."

Aster shakes his head. "No thanks. I'm ready for sleep."

The older man's eyes crinkle up. "You're helping." he then sends the other a certain, knowing look. "Or I'll tell Jackson all your secrets."

The color drained out of Aster's face, and he cast a side-glance to Jackson, who is just as amused by his reaction more than the secret they could be keeping. "Fine." he answers gruffly, crossing his arms and frowning.

Jackson laughs. He's never seen such a guy as Aster pout before - it was such a silly sight, after seeing the other with an angry look for such a long time. "Hah. Thought you could get away with it, didn't you?"

"Blackmail, I tell you." Aster huffs, as Damien parks the truck.

It was too dark to see, but what he could see of it, the house looked much newer than the one Jackson had lived in for the past few years; It took on a sort of cabin look, while also being as modern as it could be. He could only think on how much it would actually have cost, but he could tell it was much fancier than what he was used to, and it made him a little uncomfortable with the idea of staying.

"Cool." Jackson comments.

Aster nods. "She's a beaut, isn't she? - We built her from scratch with a few friends." he takes off his seatbelt to hop out of the truck, moving the things he had been holding in his lap out of the way. "Mostly Nicholas and his parents. They like building stuff." he adds.

"You mean the Russian people?" Jackson asks, stepping out of the truck as well, taking a hold of Moxy's carrier, which had been sat on the ground. "The ones who win every Christmas decorating competition ever?"

"Yep." he answers. "They're annoying, boisterous arseholes, but they're friends, and that's what friends are."

"Seriously?" Jack asks. "I thought friends just kind of...I dunno...hang out?"

the other shakes his head. "Usually, but I...I'll introduce you later, I guess."

Damien hefts up the largest box - the one with the computer in it - with difficulty, grunting at the weight. He shifts it to one arm for a bit to unlock the door. They had parked inside a lean-to, or the beginning of a garage, and so it was only natural to have a door leading out to it, Jackson could imagine.

The door opens up to a small room, with coats hanging on the walls and shoes lined up underneath; it was just so mundane to have a room specifically for coats ad shoes that Jack couldn't help himself but chuckle at the sight. Yes, his home had a coat rack, but it was placed in the kitchen, right near the doorway. He never really heard about having a room for coats, nor has he seen such a thing until now.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Aster rolls his eyes, placing the shoebox Jackson had packed and stacking it on a larger one. "Put your demon-infested pet inside and help out, would you?"

Jack rolls his eyes. "She's not demon-infested, she just likes you!"

"Like hell it does!" he answers, not even turning around as he lifts the two boxes up to carry them inside, using his foot to tap against Jack's legs, urging him to walk a little faster.

Jack places the carrier down by the living room couch, not even sparing the room a glance as he quickly shuffled back outside to grab another box - there were only four of them, he remembers, also counting the shoebox, so really this was the last one.

He uses his foot to close the door behind him as he makes his way back into the living room, where the other two were setting the boxes. Moxy lets out an irritated yowl, but is only ignored as Jack sets the box on the floor closest to the television.

The living room was like one of those ones you'd see on television, where it was spacious enough to fit an elephant in, if you wanted to. It had a flat-screen television hanging up on the wall, bookshelves made into the corner by the staircase, and a green L-shaped couch.

It was fancier than what he was used to, just like the outside appearance. It made him wonder if Damien wasn't just some billionaire in disguise. He knows, though, that if that were the case, Damien would have probably never bought this house - or built it - in the first place, seeing as how most billionaires tended to have mansions with too-large windows, a pool, and all that other stuff he couldn't really name off.

"Like it?" Damien asks. "It probably seems _way_ different than the stuff you're used to, huh?"

"A little." Jack nods.

"You can stay on the couch for tonight." Aster says, before Damien sends him a look.

"He can sleep on the futon in your room. It's way more comfier, plus, I'd hate if I woke him up in the morning."

"No way!"

Jack blinks at the two men for a moment, taking in Damien's cheeky look and Aster's frustrated one with interest. Why would he being in Aster's room cause that kind of reaction?

Oh wait.

Oh no.

Aster's room.

As in the place where he sleeps at night and paints and talks to his friends and oh wow. That may be problematic. Aster was a great looking guy - and even with his horrible temper he was still good looking, and Jack didn't think it'd be too much of a great idea to stick him in a room with that, even for a short time.

He also wasn't stupid, he knew Aster must value his privacy enough to make a stink about it. He knew how much wanting to be alone meant.

"Uhm, I could just take the couch." he offers, shifting uncomfortably. "It's not the first time I've slept on a couch." he says the final part in a softer voice. A couch wasn't the worst place to sleep; why, he used to love sleeping on the couch whenever his mother was out late with friends. She never bothered him over it, so it became his favorite thing to do.

Damien looks anxious at that. "No, I insist; Aster's room is large enough for the two of you. I'll buy a mattress tomorrow, so it's only for one night!"

Jack looks between the two worriedly, unsure what to do. "I guess." he began slowly, before he throws Aster a smirk. "But only if you don't snore as much as you do in class!"

Aster sputters."What? - I don't snore in class! I don't even sleep in class!" he denies.

"Suuurrre." Jack drawls, turning his back to the two to pick up the carrier and undo the latch, letting the cat out.

"Ugh." Aster says, resigned. "Sure. I snore. Deal with it, frostbite."

"Wow," Jack smiles. "Going with old insults, now? I thought you better!"

"It's too late for this, Jack."

"It's never too late!"

Damien huffs in amusement, watching the two boys pick at each other for a moment more before clearing his throat, catching their attention. "Boys," he offers a thin smile. "Goodnight." He turns around and walks out of the room.

After a few moments of silence, the two share a glance.

Jack, his smile never wavering from a minute ago, merely chuckles. "So...futon?"

Aster rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Grab some jammies and I'll show you my room."

"Jammies?"

"Pajamas."

"Oh, good, because I don't think I have jammies." Jack laughs, moving to the box he remembers he had packed his clothes in. He opens it up to push around clothes until he pulled out a pair of shorts and a long sleeved shirt.

"Shorts? In this cold?" Aster questions.

"I like shorts." Jack replies. "Let me like my shorts."

"I think your bum would appreciate it if you didn't have shorts."

"Ah, I see." Jack nods. "You want me naked?" he then asks cheekily, dodging with a laugh as Aster tosses a couch pillow at him.*

"No!" Aster shouts, face flushed red in embarrassment.

"I _wont_!" Jack laughs. "It was a joke, Aster!"

Aster chuckles, shaking his head at the others antics. "Alright, follow me, then."

With that, they both walk up the stairs, Moxy trailing behind them, occasionally weaving her way between Jackson's legs and making it difficult to walk. The wall on one side of the stairs had the occasional picture of Aster, Damien, or other people; not many pictures, but enough. Aster didn't smile in any of them, from what Jackson glimpsed. Sour puss.

Soon they came upon a hallway and went left, passed a couple doors - one, which was open, was a bathroom. They then came to a stop in front of a brown door, and Aster opens it up.

"Here it is." he gestures with a hand. "Ladies first."

"Age before beauty, hop-scotch." Jack rolls his eyes, before gesturing as well.

"No, I insist." Aster says. "You are a guest after all."

"I'm what you call a proper guest." Jack replies. "I like to let the other guy go first."

Damien pokes his head out of a door down the hallway. "Can you guys be any louder? Some people have work to sleep for, you know."

Aster sighs, rolling his eyes as he enters the room. "Come in you stubborn showpony. You're helping with the futon."

Jack doesn't hesitate to follow him inside. He knows how late it is; he's going to feel awful tomorrow at school, that's for sure.

The bedroom was nothing like Jackson's; The room had enough space in it to shove the bed next to the dresser, while still having room for a violin and it's stand. There was a desk by the window covered in papers haphazardly strewn everywhere about the surface, and it had all kinds of posters, pictures, and sticky notes on one wall.

The room was painted a soft grey-blue, while the carpet was a tan color. It looked nicer than what he was used to, but heck - everything at this point Jackson was unused to. The room, despite everything in it, was quite large.

Jack whistles. "Nice." he comments, as Aster pulls out a black futon from his closet.

"Here. Lay this over there. I'll get the blanket and stuff while you get dressed." Aster replies, handing the corner of the futon to Jack, who takes it and goes in the direction Aster wanted, right across the room from Aster's bed.

Jack then aligns it with the wall, and takes off to the bathroom down the hallway; no way was he dressing with Aster in the room. He's sure he'd completely embarrass himself, having someone watch him.

As soon as he returns, the futon has a thick, purple blanket thrown over it and a pillow from the couch downstairs. Jack can't help but laugh at how much effort was put into making it. "I love the guest bed, it looks so comfy." he smirks.

Aster, from his place sitting on his bed, chuckles. "We didn't have any pillows to hand you."

Jack shrugs. "I'll live. It's only 'til tomorrow."

"Just don't wake me up." the other goes to lie down. "Get the light." he then says.

Jack turns the light off, causing the place to go dark, the only light being the small opening of the curtain, where the moonlight shone in. He closes the door behind him and retreats to the futon, carefully laying down on it. It was a little uncomfortable, and he could feel the hardness of the floor whenever he moved, but he knew it was too late to back out even if he wanted to.

He abandons the blanket, pushing it aside, and closes his eyes. The house was quiet save for the ticking of a clock, and he found himself hating those ticks; he was so used to the white noise of a fan that silence and the ticking of a clock felt nothing short of terribly annoying.

Three minutes later, he cracks open his eyes to see Aster checking his phone.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?" he asks.

"Give me a minute to tell these people off." Aster replies. "I don't even know why they're up at such a God-forsaken hour."

"To text you?" Jack says, rolling to where he faced away from the light. "I'd probably do the same thing."

"Text people at this hour, or text me at this hour?"

"You, mostly."

A noise is heard - Aster turning to face him, probably. "Oh yeah? What's your number?"

Jack laughs. "One eight hundred no-phone."

Aster is silent for a minute, and Jack finds himself turning back to face him. "Wow, you've got to be the only person I've met without a phone." Aster says.

"Surprise?" Jack smirks. "Not everyone has a phone, you know."

"Why not?" Aster asks. "I mean, even my dad has a phone."

"Awe, that's just rubbing it in."

"Even the _principle_ has a phone."

"Pictures or it never happened." Jack huffs, smile never leaving his face. "And I was going to buy one soon."

"Sure you were." Aster says. "Tell you what; tomorrow I'll take you out to buy one."

Jack blinks at the other in surprise. "...But don't they cost a butt-ton of money?"

Aster smiles. "Nothing over a hundred, okay?" he then lays back down, draping his arm over the side of the bed to place his cellphone underneath it. "Night, Jackie." he whispers, and Jack couldn't help the giddy feeling he got at that. It'd been a long time since he had a goodnight from someone, and Aster whispering it was a much better thing to hear than what he could have imagined.

Though that sounded weird, didn't it? All well, guilty pleasures.

"Night." he repeats back, in a whisper himself.

He should probably be worrying about his mother or worrying about how hard the floor was or that the curtains to the window were closed, and he knows he should be worrying about Aster buying him a phone, or how he'd have to talk to his boss later.

He knows he should be worrying, and if not should, then usually he _would_ be worrying.

But, even if he normally would be anxious about nothing and everything, just having Aster in the room with him made him feel at ease. They weren't friends -or, well, they _seemed_ to not be friends- but just having someone around right now helped.

It was late, though, and his mind was probably not the sharpest thing when he was tired. Still, Aster's weirdly silent presence helped him calm his thoughts, and even he admits that he could afford to be selfish once in a while.

So, he closes his eyes to sleep.

* * *

Aster couldn't sleep. Not with his crush in the room. He couldn't help but glance in the direction he knew the other was in before snapping his eyes back to the ceiling. It was such a surreal thing, having the other here.

His dad never got to telling him why he had drug Jack away from his home other than that he and his mum had an argument of some sorts, but Aster couldn't help but think it was something else. Every family gets into a spat every once in a while, and you never really see someone rushing to leave home afterward. It was sketchy.

Also not to mention the ice cream. Damien hardly ever bought ice cream. The man was one of those health lovers, who would stock up on fruits and vegetables, so him buying ice cream was rare. Perhaps the 'fight' Jack and his mother had was of something more horrible than the normal teen angst? Aster wouldn't know, but it was a bit worrying.

He shakes his head, knocking the thoughts from his mind before leaning over to grab his phone. He had set it aside but he could hear it vibrating on the floor, and he was just about ready to fling it out the window. Whoever it was needed to go to sleep like an actual person, and he was going to tell them so.

 **Groupcht**

 **T:** aster did you kiss yet

 **T:** because if you didnt im going to make you later

 **N:** ooo do it i will get camera

 **S:** north theres a camera on your phone :)

 **N:** how do i get it

 **T:** guys aster and jack? kind of a thing that could be happening?

Aster smirks at his friend's antics. They were probably the most annoying bunch he knew, but they were the most amazing batch of friends he's ever had. They didn't judge him for anything, and they always asked him if he was okay.

And then there's this crap they pull.

 **A:** go to sleep you shits

He prepares to toss the phone aside, thinking that is that, before it's buzzing in his hand again. He tiredly looks at the chat once more, growing a little agitated.

 **S:** i'm already in bed!

 **T:** tell me about the kissing part

" _Shouldn't you be sleeping_?"

Aster jumps a little at the sudden voice, glancing to where Jack was laying. Was Jack watching him this entire time?

"Give me a minute to tell these people off." Aster replies. "I don't even know why they're up at such a God-forsaken hour."

"To text you?" Jack says, shifting around - probably getting himself comfortable. It was pretty late, and he did fall asleep on the trip home. Jack must have been tired as hell. "I'd probably do the same thing."

"Text people at this hour, or text me at this hour?"

"You, mostly."

Aster turns to face him. "Oh yeah? What's your number?"

Jack laughs. "One eight hundred no-phone."

Aster goes quiet for a moment, taking a small glance at his phone as it vibrates once more at a new message. "Wow, you've got to be the only person I've met without a phone."

"Surprise?" Jack says. "Not everyone has a phone, you know."

"Why not?" Aster shrugs, taking a second or two to turn the message notification on his phone off, successfully silencing it for the night. "I mean, even my dad has a phone."

"Awe, that's just rubbing it in."

"Even the _principle_ has a phone."

"Pictures or it never happened." Jack replies. "And I was going to buy one soon."

"Sure you were." Aster says. "Tell you what; tomorrow I'll take you out to buy one."

"...But don't they cost a butt-ton of money?"

Aster smiles. "Nothing over a hundred, okay?" he then lays back down, draping his arm over the side of the bed to place his cellphone underneath it, ignoring the little machine for now. "Night, Jackie." he finds himself whispering. In a way it was kind of nice to whisper a goodnight to someone. As weird as that may sound.

"Night." Jack whispers back.

* * *

 **This is split in two parts sorry not sorry**

 **and sorry for horrible writing i start out in amazing poet-like grace but then poof its gone goodbye amazing art goodbye and hello horrible chapters hello**

* * *

 **O if you liked, X if you didn't!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I honestly can't wait until I'm back in the actual plot with this because though it may be a completely shit plot it's pretty decent. ( although its probably cliché af.)**

* * *

When Jackson awoke he had, as quietly as he could, folded the blanket he had used and crept outside the bedroom and out into the hallway. It was five in the morning, and though there was no alarm clock to wake him up, the habit of waking up at such a time was enough.

He uses the bathroom to change and then he heads downstairs. It was weird not having a cat trying to trip you after so long of knowing only how to dance by the feline every morning. Moxy must have fallen asleep somewhere, as it was obvious she hadn't entered Aster's room last night.

He finds the kitchen easily, standing in the doorway for a moment. Moxy. Did he even pack her some food? Nope. Of course not. It had never even crossed his mind, which was dumb, seeing as how it was his cat and feeding her was routine by now.

Looking in the cabinets showed that there was little to nothing he could give the cat. Cats don't eat chips, obviously. He was tired, okay? Brain not functional right now.

Inside the fridge proved that it was filled - stuffed - with food, though, and luckily he managed to find a carton of eggs. He searches the cabinets again until he finds the bread, preparing to make breakfast.

Now, normally, he'd start making breakfast around nine whenever his mother woke up, but seeing as how he probably won't be allowed to go home - or anywhere near his mother - that would probably begin to change.

It was still a little strange with the fancy house and all, but it did seem homely enough. The only clutter he had really seen so far was Aster's desk and the fridge, though, which wasn't too odd. He admits that there were tons of messes he'd left at home - the closet down the hallway for one - and he could relate to being lazy about it.

He's probably also lucky Jess never took the time to look around her own house.

He heats up some butter on a frying pan, taking a glance out of the window above the sink; still dark out, of course, but that was to be expected.

Just as he is about to crack the eggs into a bowl, he hears footsteps coming from the stairway. A head pokes itself passed the doorway before the person walks in. It's Damien, with probably the worse case of bedhead Jackson had ever seen, glasses askew funnily on his face, as if he had just placed them on without bothering to look through them.

"Morn." The man mumbles out, reaching under his glasses to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Why're you up?"

Jack shrugs, grinning at the disheveled man, before turning back to the stove to crack the eggs. "You want some?" he asks instead.

"Want some of what?"

"French toast."

Damien chuckles. "Been a while since I've had that. Sure." the man goes to grab some dishes from the cabinet. "You didn't have to cook you know, I could have done it for you." he says as he sets the dishes at the table.

Jackson smiles. "Yeah I know. But I got up first."

The man laughs, moving to the fridge to pull out a carton of orange juice. "My sister used to make the same argument."

"You had a sister?" Jack asks. He would have normally gone quiet, but he knew keeping up a conversation was deemed as polite. Especially if the other person is helping you - which is what Damien is doing. Jess had never bothered to set the table or anything.

But then again what would Jess set? One plate for herself. Jack had to earn his meals when he was home, so it was mostly her eating alone and him hiding in his room chewing on a protein bar.

"Yep. She was older then me." Damien reminisces, a far-away look on his face as he poured the drinks. "We liked cooking in our family, so, like clockwork, we'd each fight over who would make the meals each day."

"Must have been nice."

"It was." the man nods, placing the carton back into the fridge. "Though I admit my cooking wasn't the best."

"You ever kill a man?" Jack deadpans.

Damien laughs. "Yes." he says. "If a man were ever considered a skillet full of lettuce, then yes."

Jack nods solemnly. "I think that has happened to us all at one point." he then smiles, laughing.

"Oh. I'd love to eat your wonderful cooking right now, but I just remembered that I have work at six." Damien says, glancing up at the wall clock. He shakes his head. "Wake up Aster when you're done, okay? - Also you don't have school for today." he explains quickly, downing his glass of orange juice and rushing out of the door.

"Er...Yeah?" Jack blinks to the exit the man had disappeared to. "No school? Neat."

The click of the door closing is all Jackson needs to hear to know the man had left. Such a shame, too, not having breakfast, but hey the man could always buy something on his way to work.

Not but five toasts on a plate before a soft nudging at his legs causes him to jump, nearly slapping the spatula to his face in shock; looking down, only a cat stares up at him. She lets out a tiny little gurgle-huff, which, in his opinion, was adorable.

"Hi." he whispers to her.

She meows up at him, a tiny drop of saliva dripping down her chin, and Jack laughs at the sight.

"I don't have food for you, sorry."

Before he even has time to pull out the syrup ( or, in this case, jelly, since he didn't feel like looking around for some.) a knock comes from the front door, in a little tune-like way, before the door is opened up.

A few people crowd inside the living room, from what he could see. The tallest is laughing as a smaller person - a girl, obviously - is chattering excitedly away.

Jackson doesn't realize how completely spooked he was until the cat yowls a hiss at him and runs quickly to the living room. He had accidentally stepped on her tail. Not nice.

"H...hello?" he asks, just as the trespassers appeared. Seeing who it was he rolls his eyes. "Oh God...do you wake him up in the morning or something?"

Nicholas - one of Aster's friends - laughs once more. "No, we just smelled breakfast."

Nicholas was a large man by far, easily towering over Jackson and could easily lift the other up with little to no problem. He was Russian, born and raised, and he often spoke the language with pride.

Jackson had only been introduced to him last year near Christmas, when he was walking home from work and had tripped, spilling the cheap coffee he had been given all over the guy. He had thought he would have a beat-down, and he had panicked for a moment at the time, apologizing over and over as if his life depended on it - only to hear that oh-so familiar laugh.

They weren't friends, but Nicholas did buy him another coffee and invited him to eat out with him and his friends Christmas eve - he refused, since Christmas eve meant he had to get the house ready for Christmas day, when his mother invited her often shrewd guests in for a party. He did thank Nicholas in the end, though.

He smiles. "So, do you guys normally bust inside without knocking?"

From beside Nicholas stood another man, who had been silent thus far. The man quickly pulls his phone up, showing the screen to Jack. ' _We asked aster last night if we could. hi im sandy :)_ '

He was a short fellow, only reaching up to Jackson's shoulders. His blond hair was a goldish color, with just a few strands of brown underneath - meaning he had probably dyed it, which was cool. He looked like a jolly man, so Jack felt a little at ease around him.

They had met before as well, but the man was most likely mute and so no introductions were made, as Jackson had only learned the most simplest of sign language. Mostly colours and common things like 'how are you' and 'wait'.

The man had a locker next to his in school, actually, now that he thought a little about it. They would share a smile with each other in greeting if they ever noticed one another, so in a way they may have been acquaintances, but he never really bothered to remember the other until now.

"Uhm, Hi." Jack replies shortly after reading the message, smiling. "I'm Jack -"

"Oh my gosh!" the girl from before pushes the other two away and looks over Jackson with a wide smile. "I thought Aster was joking or something! - You're here! In his house! -And, oh, you have the most brightest smile!"

Jackson, at this outburst, takes a tiny, nervous step back, before sizzling from behind him has him quickly turning around - he had left the burner on, and the pan had a dark smoke rising from it "-Oh, uhm!" he says as he's turning it off, placing the pan quickly onto the back burner for now. "Hi. And yeah? Why is that a surprise?" he asks, arching an eyebrow at her.

She looks flustered for a moment. "No reason! - Just...yeah." she waves a little bit shyly. "I'm Toothiana - weird name, I know."

Jack laughs. "Toothiana? Like...that sounds like a fairy from one of those kid cartoons."

Toothiana giggles along. "I know!" she agrees. "But you could always use my middle name if you don't like to use that one..."

"No way." Jack shakes his head. "I'll just call you tooth."

"Tooth?" she asks. "Well, it's better than Elisabeth."

"Lizz would be a neat name, but I'm already decided."

Nicholas chuckles, before gesturing to the stove. "Do you need help? We are here, and unwelcome, so we might as well lend hand."

"Unwelcome?" Jack frowns. "You're not unwelcome. Just y'know...next time knock. Or shout. Something." he turns back to the stove, turning it back on. "And yeah, do you know where syrup is? Or jelly. Anything you could put on this?" he gestures to the already finished toast on the plate he had to the side. "Because I couldn't find anything."

Toothiana smiles, before going to the cabinets on the far side, and Nicholas nods, opening the fridge. Sandy took to washing his hands. He went to dip the bread inside of the eggs. Jackson appreciated it. Getting eggs on his fingers wasn't his favorite thing.

"Thanks." he says to the three, and receives a thumbs up in reply.

* * *

Aster woke up smelling something that his groggy mind could only describe as heavenly. Damien must have made breakfast, Aster assumed, until he turned to his clock, and seeing that it was 5:37. Who the hell even woke up at this hour? He wakes up around six, but getting up any earlier is pushing it.

He groans into his pillow for a moment, before reluctantly pushing himself up and out of bed. Jack had folded the blanket he had used last night and placed it and the pillow to the side, which was convenient, and meant he didn't have to play a game of hopscotch.

With the time being as it was, Damien was most likely driving to work - or already at work - by now, so the only one Aster could think of making breakfast was Jack.

Checking his phone and sitting back down onto the bed, he furrows his eyebrows at the bright screen.

 **2:47 AM**

 **T: hey im bringing everyone over tomorrow**

 **T: want to see if jack rly there**

He sighs, rubbing a hand at one of his eyes. Only Toothiana would do something such as invite herself over when he was asleep. He didn't think she'd be here, though, as she only usually shows up at six when she's bringing Nicholas and Sandy along. If it's herself she shows up earlier, but he doubts she'd lie in her texts. The drive to school normally took a good hour if Nicholas was the one driving, though, so perhaps they did come over earlier than expected? Who knows.

He stands up again to root around his dresser for some clothes, before his phone vibrates. He sighs, yanking out an old, paint-splotched shirt and a pair of jeans, before grabbing the device to look across the text that had come up.

 **Da: called school dont go talk 2 you when i get back**

Oh. No school? Awesome. He could live with that - only, the thought of having extra work tomorrow was a little worrying. He could deal, though. He'd get Jack to help him if he got stuck, since the mischief maker was probably the reason Damien had called the school in the first place anyway.

Though that did lead to the question of why Damien had grabbed Jack away from home - sure, Jack and his mother had a fight or something, but surely they'd want to say goodbye to each other, if he was staying for a while?

Aster knows he had wanted to say goodbye to his own mother. It wasn't as dire of a situation as cancer - which his mother had fallen to - but Jack surely must love Jessica still. It was probably one of those teenager moods Jack went into, and that's why they both fought in the first place. Dumb, but still, Jessica was leaving Friday or so, and though it was a good four days away, he's sure Jack wouldn't mind meeting with her to clear up whatever spat they had.

Nodding his head, he pulls the shirt on quickly. He'll bring Jack over to his house so maybe the other could apologize. And while he was at it, maybe take Jack out to get a drink or something. Would that be too suspicious? Maybe instead just walk to the park or something?

Heck, just spending time with Jack felt like a little too much. Like maybe he was doing it all wrong. Perhaps he could just outright tell Jack about his crush on him? –No. No that wouldn't do at all and may make things awkward. (Also he wasn't that brave of a person. He'd most likely mess it up if he were to ask Jack out on a date.)

Man…he needed help. Romance wasn't his best forte.

Pulling the rest of his clothes on, he grabs the phone and shoves it in his pocket before making his way downstairs.

As he is about to walk in the kitchen he pauses, surprised, because there, sitting at the table and chattering away was Toothiana, Nicholas, and Sandy. Jack was grabbing some more cups out of the cabinet, and, really, it would look like some kind of messed up family breakfast if it weren't for the fact they stopped their chattering to grin at him.

Well, it wasn't _too_ surprising, but they should have at least called before barging in. Did Jack answer the door for them, or did they bust in yet again?

"Oh, God." Aster says, rubbing a hand down the side of his face with a sigh. "You broke in again, didn't you?" he asks.

Nicholas laughs. "Yes - I have a key, so why not use it?"

"I'm changing the locks."

Toothiana smiles. "You said that last year and look what happened."

 _'Nothing'_ Sandy signs. Aster could read a few signs, from being with the mute for so long, but whatever else the little man was signing, he didn't catch much of.

"Oh!" Toothiana then turns to Jack, who is setting the cups on the table. "Jack made breakfast! - Isn't he so _adorable_?" she gushes, sending Aster a teasing look.

"We _all_ made breakfast, though." Jack corrects, not catching on to her teasing.

"You started it, and you ended it, so technically you made breakfast." Toothiana says. "I'm sure Aster would _love_ to taste your cooking."

"Tooth..." Jack starts, before trailing off, giving up on the subject, before taking the orange juice back out of the fridge, to hand it to Nicholas, who started to pour his own drink.

"Tooth?" Aster questions, taking a seat at the table.

"My new name!" Toothiana smiles. "Jack made it." she says as Jack also takes a seat.

They all pass around the plate of French toast and condiments, before settling down to eat.

"Thanks, sweet tooth!" Toothiana smiles, cutting a piece of her toast up before tasting it.

Nicholas scrunches his nose up at her. "No syrup? No nothing? Bah. Crazy woman."

She looks up indignantly. "I have butter on it."

The other man shakes his head. " _Very_ crazy." he mutters, sending her a playful smile.

Sandy, after a few minutes, waves his hand at Jack, giving the other a thumbs up.

"Didn't you guys eat breakfast before you left home?" Jack asks, blushing in embarrassment at the compliments.

Sandy raises his hand, before making a _'small'_ sign. Aster was sure there was a sign there for 'toast', but he wasn't an expert. What he did know, though, was that Jack hadn't even eaten any of his food for the past minute or so, and it was kind of concerning.

He points his fork at the other's plate. "Is it poisoned?" he asks.

Jack shakes his head. "No? Why would it be?"

"-Aster!" Toothiana pouts. "That isn't very nice."

"You haven't even touched it." Aster says.

Jack blinks at him for a moment in thought. "I was waiting?" he asks. "Aren't you supposed to wait for everyone else to eat after you made something?"

Everyone looks over at him as if he had grown another head. "No." Toothiana answers. "You eat with everyone else. Who told you that?"

"What?" Jack smiles. "I thought that you had to wait. Whoops!" he laughs, albeit nervously.

"Bah. Forget rules!" Nicholas huffs. "In my family, if you see food on plate, you eat it."

"If your family saw a pig on the street, they'd eat it." Aster rolls his eyes.

Nicholas looks about to retaliate, but pauses, going to scratch at his chin in thought. " _Actually_..."

"Oh my..." Toothiana says. "They did that once?"

"With deer, but yes." Nicholas smiles. "Was wonderful feast, though! Had food in the fridge for months!"

Jack gasps. "You killed bambi?"

"Who is this bambi?" Nicholas asks, flabbergasted, until Jack laughs.

 _'Movie_ _:P'_ Sandy shows his phone to North.

"It's a very old movie." Toothiana also answers, hiding an obvious smile behind her drink. Nicholas may have been in Burgess for a while, now, but he didn't seem to know some things. He still struggled with English, too, but it wasn't too bad. Besides, him not knowing one of the most memorable movies had its perks sometimes. Those sometimes being movie nights.

Aster nods. "I haven't seen it, but it's about deer from what I saw. Some kind of Disney movie."

"I read a book it was based on..." Jack says. "I couldn't afford to get the movie, but the book was cool."

"There was a book?" Toothiana asks, leaning forward a little. "Do you know what it's called? - My sisters loved the movie to bits. I think they'd love the book."

Jack cringes. "It's not light and fluffy, like the movie." he takes a sip of orange juice before continuing. "It was at the library, though. Maybe you could ask them?"

"We have a library here?" Nicholas chuckles. "I had no clue."

"It's kind of hidden. I work right across the street from it."

"Where is it hidden?" Aster asks, pouring some more jelly on his toast.

Jack shrugs. "You guys ever been to the fat cat diner? Just across the street from that, around the corner from the art shop."

Sandy nods, raising his hand up, smiling.

Nicholas hums. "I've only been there once, but not to eat. Are they any good?"

Toothiana pushes her empty plate to the side. "The food there would taste absolutely _wonderful_ if Jack were the one cooking," she glances to Aster, mischievous smile on her face. "Right?"

Aster, choosing to ignore her, takes another bite. "I haven't even seen the place..." he trails off, looking to the side, thinking. "Then again I haven't been to town much."

"It's nice." Jack replies. "I never really tried much from the menu, but I've heard it was nice." he shyly looks toward Aster, pushing his toast around with his fork in thought. "...I could take you there, later?" he asks, glancing around the group anxiously.

"Oo, we could go after school, if you all want?" Toothiana says, before taking her juice and pouring the rest in Nicholas' cup. Nicholas doesn't even glimpse at her, but Aster could see the slight tilt of the other's mouth that he was amused.

"Nah, sheila." Aster smirks. "Da called the school; Snowflake and I have the day off."

"Yikes. What for?" Nicholas asks.

"Beats me. Probably so we can get his room ready."

"Room?" Toothiana leans forward in her chair. "He has a room?" she shoots Aster a scandalous expression. "You told us he was 'just visiting', and here we find he has a _room_?"

"Is that bad?" Jack shrinks into his chair at her miniature outburst.

"what?" she scoffs. "No! Now we can crash here and hang out with the both of you! Two birds, one stone!"

"You..." Jack blinks at what she said for a moment, in surprise. "You want to hang out with me?"

"Yep!" Toothiana nods. "Why wouldn't we? Aster couldn't stop talking about you!"

Aster felt the sudden urge to flip his syrup-laden plate at her, but instead placed a hand over his eyes in embarrassment. "Please don't-"

"Awe, you talked about me? What'd you say?" Jack asks, smirking while reaching across the table to poke at him with an unused butter knife. "Did you tell them how amazing I was?"

"No, I told them how completely bonkers you were." Aster grumbles, reaching up to rub at the shoulder he was poked in.

"You bet he did!" Nicholas snorts, ignoring Aster's grumbling. "He wouldn't shut up about you when his father picked him up. Told us you were 'visiting'. Bah."

"I bloody did not!" Aster denies.

"Oh yeah, he also spoke of inviting you to join us at Sandy's house tomorrow!" Toothiana cut in. "We were going to have dinner together and - and just basically have a huge sleep-over!"

"A sleep-over?" Jack asks. "Aren't we all a bit old for those?"

Sandy shakes his head, holding a hand up as to say _'stop'_.

"You're never too old to do something you like." Toothiana states. "Besides, sleep-overs in our age group involve R-rated movies and horrible puns. Also video games. Who doesn't love those?"

"You have a point." Jack admits. "But you'd have to tone it down on the R-rated movies. I don't like a lot of those."

"That's fine." Nicholas reassures. "The only one we have is the pool dead."

" _Deadpool_." Aster corrects.

"Oh. Also Sherlock - you may like that one." Toothiana adds in. "And if not we can just rent a bunch of Disney movies. Nicholas needs to be educated."

Jack coughs out a sudden laugh. "Sure!" he answers happily. "I'm the master at those; my sister used to make me watch them with her!"

Toothiana opened her mouth to ask him about that, when, throughout the mildly quiet house, a loud alarm had rung - Aster's alarm clock, which he had left untouched, was ringing like the mad machine it was made to be. It wasn't the cutesy little 'ring ring' you would hear, oh no, this was a _loud_ and seemingly never-ending _shriek_ _of terror_. Kind of like the noise that comes from a cat when you step on it's tail, but continuous.

It was loud enough to cause everyone to flinch, Nicholas had accidentally slammed his fork right into his hand - not puncturing it, thank the heavens - Sandy, who had been scrolling through his phone, had played a short version of hot potato with himself before inevitably tossing it across the room, Toothiana had ducked down, as if a bomb had gone off, while Aster and Jackson covered their ears.

"Shit dammit!" Aster roars over the loud shrieks. "I'm going to throw that blasted machine out!"

No one stopped the man from standing up from the table to trot quickly up the stairs, two steps at a time. They could only sigh as the clock was turned off, the silence ringing in their ears like a blessing.

"That...clock..." Nicholas, rubbing the hand that he had jabbed before, then breaks that quiet, his voice a little louder than it was before. "Is that even a clock?"

"We heard that all the way from Aster's room?" Toothiana mutters.

Sandy lets out a little whimper-sniffle noise at his phone, which now looked to have a large crack running across the screen. The newest touch-screen phones weren't very durable. Or, well, the one he had, at least.

"Yikes." Jackson whispers to the shorter, leaning over the other's shoulder a bit to glance at the phone. He wasn't one to normally pry, but, man, would you look at that? Looks like Aster might have to buy another phone for someone. That's okay. Jack doesn't need a phone anyways. He could always ask Aster to buy Sandy one instead.

Sandy nods sadly, holding the thing in two hands, treating the broken thing gently. Aster's footsteps stomping down the stairs drag all eyes to him.

"What the heck kind of alarm clock was that?" Toothiana asks.

"The kind that wakes you up." Aster smirks, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "Also it's six. You should all be headin' for school, yeah?"

Jackson huffs, amused. "It was nice talking to you." he says, smiling to everyone. "Also, Aster, you should buy Sandy a new phone. His broke."

"What?" Aster frowns, furrowing his eyebrows. "How?"

"He tried to use it as a fork." Jack rolls his eyes. "How do you think?"

"When your clock chimed, he accidentally threw it across the room." Toothiana explains, standing up and gathering her empty plate.

"You don't have to put your plate up." Jack murmurs lowly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I can get it."

"Nonsense!" she says hastily. "I'm up, my plate is empty, it goes in the sink!"

"Oh. Okay. Just saying." Jack shrugs, before standing up himself, Sandy and Nicholas following his example of pushing the chairs back in their place by the table.

Aster huffs at them for a moment, before going in to pick up all the used dishes to pile them in the sink. Sandy makes sure to wipe the table clean with a napkin, before they all stop to look at their completed task.

"Thanks." Jackson smiles. "That was quick."

"Indeed." Nicholas agrees, before chuckling. "Let us hope our trip to school is faster, still! It is six already!"

Toothiana, at the reminder of the time, quickly goes to give Jackson a hug. "It was so nice to meet you! Can't wait to meet again! Bye!" she then flies out the front door, not a care in the world about the way she had slammed it open. The momentum causing the thing to snap closed.

Sandy laughs a little breathy-wheezy laugh, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. He makes a fist in his right hand and runs it in a circle on his chest. ' _Sorry._ '

"Ah, it's alright, mate. Sheila tends to worry about being late." Aster says, nodding once to the door. "You should all go, too, before she ends up leaving you here."

"She won't." Nicholas smirks. "We took Sandy's car. He has the key."

Sandy smiles bashfully, making a small gesture as if to say 'what can ya do?'

Aster chuckles. "About time you took that thing outside."

"I asked him to." Nicholas says. "Phil had to borrow mine."

"His break down?"

"Believe it or not, no, it was completely smashed." Nicholas frowns. "Phil had woken this morning to see the hood bent, and the side crushed in." he then scoffs. "Probably some punkish rogue, yes? -Watch yourselves."

"Wow. Tell him to send pictures later."

Nicholas laughs. "Will do!" he turns his attention to Jack, giving him a wink. "It was very nice to meet you again."

Jack nods, grinning. "Yeah. Just, uhm, next time don't break in okay? Knocking is nice." he pulls at the sleeves of his hoodie nervously.

Sandy moves to pat him on the arm, offering a reassuring smile. Nicholas nods along. "Yes, yes, we'll knock. Wouldn't want to have frostbite."

"Oh, God. Not you, too."

Nicholas heads out the door, Sandy following closely, laughing. "Of course not." he says, before the door closes behind them, leaving Aster and Jack the only ones in the house. Unless you counted the cat.

It was silent, which, if you've ever had noisy company over, and they had stepped out of the house, you would understand the weird ear-numbing silence that fell across them. The faint humming of a vehicle starting up and driving down the driveway was probably the only noise they heard for a moment or two.

Jackson sighs, turning around to face Aster. "So...no school huh?"

"For today." Aster answers, looking the other over for a moment. "What do you want to do?" he asks quietly, only turning his head away to look at the cat, which had just entered the room.

"Oh!" Jack reaches down to pet Moxy. "I need to feed my cat..."

Aster nods. "Well, I can't drive, but if you're up for it, we can walk to town." he sheepishly rubs the back of his head. "Y'know...get you a phone and stuff while we're at it?"

"And Sandy?"

"Yeah, yeah. Him, too."

* * *

 **I'm going to take this slow since fanfiction is being nutty. So no major plot development here and there I'm so sorry. (Though a bit of plot IS in this chapter. I hate introductions.)**

 **and sandy is stronger than me if i had a phone and i broke it id be a complete baby**

 **also thank you for all your reviews! I love you guys!**

* * *

 **O if you liked, X if you didn't!**


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